That Night
by the queen of slurking
Summary: Those of us who have read the books know what happened that night at the end of 7th grade. What if things happened differently? My version of that night and dealings with A. Formerly Could Aria, Emily, Hanna and Spencer have saved Ali? Possible spoilers
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Hanna's P.O.V_

Spencer and Ali were arguing over the blinds-Ali wanted to hypnotize them and Spencer was annoyed with her.

I tossed aside my copy of _Vogue_ and sat up, shoving my hair off my face and frowning. I was jolted out of the trance Ali had put me in by the arguing, and wondered momentarily why they were arguing over the blinds. According to Ali, it had to be dark for her hynotizing to work.

'I'm leaving. I'm going to find somewhere much better than here to hang out', Ali declared.

'Fine, go,' Spencer retaliated.

But Ali never went; Emily jolted out of her trance and frowned. 'Ali, I just had the weirdest vision. I saw you going out of the barn and being met by someone with a knife in their hand. Don't go anywhere.' Ali agreed, but moved her sleeping bag as far away from Spencer's as she could. We finally settled down to sleep, but first Aria insisted on ensuring all the windows and doors were locked.

Who knew what would happen in years to come?

_A/N: I know its short but it will get better soon. The next chapter will move forward to the current time of the books, and won't be in anyone's P.O.V. _

_Please read and please do review-I'd like to know if I should keep it going or not. I really don't want to waste my time writing something that no-one is reading. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Flashforward to start of eleventh grade.

A day before Spencer, Aria, Emily and Hanna began eleventh grade, they all began to wonder what might have been if Ali hadn't disappeared. That night they tossed and turned fitfully, sleeping on-off and, in Spencer's case, sleepwalking and ending up in the hallway.

The next day they arrived at Rosewood Day, ready to start another year. They all arrived at the same time, exchanging tight, close-lipped smiles with only Aria and Emily pausing to talk. A little later they split up-Hanna and Aria to go to AP English, Emily to PE and Spencer to read the daily notices.

Midway through their first class, Hanna felt her BlackBerry vibrate. She surreptitiously slid it out to check the screen-as did Aria, she noticed. _I'm watching you, and I know what you did in seventh grade.-A_

Aria dismissed it as nothing-maybe some random freak trying to pretend to be Ali?

Hanna freaked out-she slowly scanned the classroom to see who it might have been.

_P.S If you don't do as I say, I'm telling everything. -A_

Neither girl knew that Emily and Spencer had also received the same message, or that if they'd bothered to look, they would have seen the sender of the message simply smiling to herself.

**(I know I said no-one's POV in this chapter, but here is one, just for a little bit)**

Sender's POV

The sender of the message simply smiled to herself, slipping her old-model LG back into her skirt pocket and adjusted her icy blue tank-top. She threw back her bony shoulders and peeked through the window again. They were passing notes now. It could be so easy to just fire off another quick message, watch them squirm even more... But no. She couldn't yet. Give them a day or two of quiet, then start again. She knew she could keep them quiet. She knew each of their weak spots and strengths-or did she? Either way, it didn't matter to her. In the meantime, she would play the friend. Emily was such a softie. Aria looked aloof; her attitude exuded 'I'm too good for you now'. Hanna looked like she'd be a tough one to crack now-when had that happened? Spencer was good... She was such the hyper-achiever that such things would really rattle her. She might even... Stop achieving. Wouldn't that be something?

They wouldn't dare rat on her. Ever. Once they knew who she was, they would be grateful. They would do anything for her. But, she wondered idly tracing a finger over the doorknob, would they die for her?

**(Back to narrative)**

Spencer scrutinized her Sidekick, looking for a clue as to who had sent the messages. Surely there was a clue in the time, or number... But it was a blocked number.

Suddenly, a glimpse of blond hair caught her eye. She noticed the figure appeared to be staring straight at her.

Sender's POV

The girl squared her shoulders and ran a finger lightly over her well-glossed lips. For some reason, she shook with nerves. Her mouth was dry and her fingers shook too much for her to hold the doorknob steady. She wished she could have a cigarette, but she couldn't. Stupid rules. She couldn't place why she felt so nervous-she'd just started her scheme to ruin four girls' lives. It'd taken a decent amount of nerve to send them, but she pushed away the trace of guilt and cleared her throat. Glossed up again. Adjusted her skirt. It was obvious she was stalling. She really didn't want to walk into the classroom, but she had to.

Pushing aside all nervous feelings, she swung open the door and strode in, taking great pleasure in the way Aria's and Hanna's faces paled with shock.

_Wow, my biggest chapter yet. Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews motivate me to write more. I like con-crit, advice. Flames would make me sad. But are still welcome. Even if you hate it, please be gentle._

_Please R&R (And I don't mean rest and recovery). And hopefully chapter 5 will be up by Monday. If not, you can throw cookies (or reviews) at me. _

_Now off to wo__R__k on g__E__tting more of my art history assessment that i ha__V__e to hand __I__n n__E__xt __W__eek..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Previously: the sender of the A notes was just walking into AP English._

**Chapter 3**

The girl slid into an empty seat and took our her pen and notebook, twirling her finger thoughtfully. She was enjoying this-walking into class late, and seeing shock on her classmates' faces. She slid out her new BlackBerry and fired off a brisk, businesslike text. _Want to take over? I think you'd be more interested in doing this yourself._ She clicked Send and watched the envelope spiral in and out of the screen. Sent. A response came back immediately. _You got it._

She smiled to herself. Of course she would have to explain it carefully, they would have to work very closely together to make lives miserable. But why stop at them? Why not spread the misery to their families and other people around them?

The ability to make peoples' lives a misery-to do something and watch people freak out. She loved it. Loved how she could switch her emotions on and off at any given time of the day or night. It came to her automatically now. She used to have to work at it. Now, she could go from stone-hearted bitch to sweet and playful in the blink of an eye. That was the advantage to messing with people for years. She felt less and less guilt with every person she messed with, and her acting skills got better and better. Just like her partner in all of this. Her family didn't know this darker side of her. There was so much they didn't know. Such as her penchant for older guys.

A new message came through, her cell phone lighting up and blinking happily. _I'll need a lot of details to pull this off. Meet me tonight to get dinner and we can discuss. Bring supplies._

Just then the bell shrilled and the class filed out. It would be hard to blend into the crowds. It would take a lot of skilful maneuvring to get this accomplished. But they were smart. Almost genius level, and that meant they could pull this off. It would get done.

Only they knew the truth about... well... everything. The Jenna Thing, the works. All thanks to a simple notebook.

Together, they would rule the school. They would keep everyone on their toes. It was a service really. And soon, she would completely hand the job over and step back to watch the chaos unfold. Really, it was a perfect deal. She was doing services to everyone. Helping one person get her vengeance, and keeping the students aware and a bit less self-absorbed. Eventually, she would be back on top, where she belonged.

Really, she couldn't go wrong. Neither of them could. Everything had always gone her way, and she would ensure it would for years to come. Even if it meant four people who used to be very close to her heart had to die. They would die for her, and that was really all that mattered to her.

If you cry, I'll cry for you

I'll lie for you, if you lie for me

I'd die for you.

Would you die for me?

A fragment of a poem she'd written years ago drifted into her mind. Except that it was no longer true, its meaning faded and old. She would be making people cry, lying to people, and she would see to it that if they had to die, it would be for her.

The major change was, though, she would no longer die for anyone. Except one person.

Yet despite her calmness, her guiltlessness and lack of feeling over being a mega-bitch, she knew she couldn't bring herself to die for that one person. Because if she did, it would mean she no longer would be perfect. And perfect was her life's meaning. Her destiny. The Jenna Thing had been a minor blip, but as always she'd managed to manipulate it so the blame was off her and on someone else.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ever quite match up to her own incredibly high standards and levels of perfection.

She knew this was because if she was too perfect, she may appear imperfect.

She also knew she'd rather kill herself first.

_Yay... Another chapter, brought to you despite the pain I'm in and the tiredness I'm feeling. (I had an injection today)._

_So... you like, don't like? Want to throw cookies (or cupcakes, or any other form of baking) at me? Even if you just say you like it (in a review) I'm happy to hear it. _

_All advice welcome, but even if you totally hate it and think it's the worst thing you've ever read, please be gentle. (I can be something of a drama queen at times)_

_I'll settle for reviews. Reviews motivate me to work harder on this and bring you more chapters. I love reviews._

_If I get enough reviews, I'll have the next chapter up sometime next week. I hopefully will have the next chapter for you by or on next Monday. Since I have no school then, I might even give 2 chapters... Wouldn't that be cool? lol_

_I have ideas. I just need to be motivated to write them up and... I've found reviews to be really motivating! ;) _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Spencer was at the country club with her parents, when she heard hushed murmuring. She managed to strain herself to hear snippets of the conversation, and suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to prickle.

She whipped around in her seat, but no-one was behind her. Turning back around, she caught sight of a pair of big blue eyes across the room-they had to be several inches high and had the caption _I see you. -A_*1 A shiver ran down her spine, and she excused herself, lighting a cigarette and taking shaky breaths.

Maybe the others knew about this? Maybe they were getting the same kind of treatment from this A person? It was probable..

What Spencer didn't know was that there was a blond with brilliant sapphire blue eyes watching her intently, and mentally noting down everything she was doing. Just then, her Sidekick buzzed, and she yanked it out hurriedly.

_Spence, you may have a 4.0 average, but your intellect doesn't seem to run to matters of emotion or memories of the past. I know what you did, and even if you think I can't, I'm watching. -A_

She slowly turned a full 360 degree circle, carefully canvassing her surrroundings, scrutinizing the people around her. No-one seemed to be holding a cell phone, nor was anyone trying to conceal themselves. She hated to admit it, but whoever A was, they were doing an excellent job of terrorizing her.

_P.S You really shouldn't smoke. It's terrible for you, and do you really want that pretty little face to be wrecked? Quit, and nothing very bad will happen to you. -A_

Now she didn't doubt at all there really was someone watching. They were doing an incredibly thorough job.

The girl giggled and pulled up the short film of Spencer on her BlackBerry, opened up a fresh text and sent it to her.. What were they, exactly? mentor/intern? That would fit. But of course she was the intern. Her mentor was carefully guiding her, making sure she didn't mess up. With the two of them working together, it was impossible to mess up. _I think you've rattled Spencer enough to last the next few days. If you try anymore, she'll start investigating and that could be a total disaster. Try Aria. She isn't so easy to mess with, but that's good. It gives you practise and affords you a few extra days-Spencer gets some quiet from us while I dig up more info on her. _

She was right. Always. Her guidance was a blessing, a gift that no-one else had, and she was incredibly lucky. Really, she dind't mind being the intern. It came with so many priviledges. Yet there were also rules, do's and don'ts.

Some of her rules popped into her head. One night, she'd gone over them, learning each of them word-for-word, aiming to know them all off by heart. Now she knew them all, and if asked, could quote them verbatim, and with pride.

_Don't ever show weakness._

_Do always look perfect._

_Don't get drunk-in vino veritas*2_

_Do sneak around, and practise where necessary._

_Don't talk to people unless you're friends with them or can't avoid it._

_Do get good grades, have a decent amount of school spirit and show interest in your school surroundings._

_Don't ever make anyone suspicious._

That was just the shortlist, and the last one was the most important. Naturally, they got more complex as they went on, but it would help her finally heal and put the past behind her. At the moment, she was looking at the future.

Maybe she could devise different ways to kill each of them? Like a personalised death for each of them... Something in the pool for Emily, for instance. Somehow Aria could die in Iceland-after all she was so fond of the place. Hanna and Spencer were harder, but she'd figure them out... If not now, she would manage it when it got most important.

A few months from now, this knowledge would be crucial. It wouldn't really take very long. Hell, they could have it all over and done with by next week if they wanted to.

But they didn't want to. They wanted to drag it out slowly and painfully.

Teachers criticized them, for not aspiring, not aiming, not having goals. But if they knew the dark secret the girls shared, they wouldn't be saying that. Not that they ever would know, because they planned to pull it off carefully and make it all perfect. Like the most perfectly tailored dress, the most exquisite shoes... They had a shared aspiration for the best. Never mind grades-Spencer already got in there, and Hanna was the most popular in the school thanks to her old friendship with Ali. Emily was the best athlete, so that was out, and Aria was the best at just being herself.

When you took all of that out of the high school equation, you really weren't left with a lot. Not in typical Rosewood, anyway. There were the jocks, the populars, the brainiacs, the weird kids, and so on. It was all so cliquey.

Aria tossed her Treo aside and picked up one of her knitting projects. Knitting always soothed her, and she felt a lot better after she'd been doing so for an hour or so.

Today though, she couldn't seem to focus, and she knew why. As she tried to pick up the next stitch she'd dropped, she sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position. Moonlight glowed through the open curtain, and she hastily pulled the curtain closed. That felt better. Now it would be much harder for anyone to see what she was doing through the heavy black material. She flicked on her TV, suddenly feeling the need to hear human voices, even if it was just the news.

She ran her fingers over a metre of knitted wool, estimating how much more she would need to do before she had the super-long scarf she wanted to have done by winter. Being November, she had a little while left, so she would finish it later. Meantime, she would finish her English homework. Since Ezra had started teaching her English class, she'd been even more into English than she used to be.

Too bad nothing further could happen between them. She'd gotten an A note yesterday about it, and A probably had the power to reveal the message to the whole school. The message was still on her Treo. _Aria-it seems to me young girls hooking up with their teachers runs in the family!-A._

Did that mean A knew about Meredith and her dad? Obviously. And A probably wouldn't mind outing her dad and Meredith anymore than she minded outing Aria and Ezra.

Unfortunately, Aria hadn't completely closed her curtains, and she didn't know that as she sat there harmlessly doing her English homework, a blond girl was peering through the little crack unshielded, twisting and contorting her body to get a better view of what Aria was doing.

Nor did A know that Aria had elected to do something boring, so if anyone happened to be watching, they couldn't get any ammunition from what she was doing.

Or could they?

_Wow, my biggest chapter yet. _

_Please review. It encourages me to write more._

_I haven't yet received a lot of reviews, which is disappointing, but I'm continuing anyway because I like this story and I know how I want it to play out. _

_Please do review, I appreciate all feedback. Even gentle flames. I now have eight internal assessments going on, and the stress will probably send me crazy. So reviews are like a bright spot in the dark days of being crazed with busyness._

_Also, if someone could give me an idea of an American school's timetable, I'd also greatly appreciate it. I believe American school timetables are considerably different to what we have in New Zealand, and I'd like an idea of it._

_*1: Inspired by the scene where Emily and Maya are in the glasshouse and Carolyn sees them sitting together-I believe it's in Perfect._

_*2: From the Latin, meaning 'In wine there is truth' as in drunk people forget to lie, so if A was drunk and forgot to lie, it could be disastrous... And so on._

_Please R&R! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

(the next day at school)

As Spencer hurried through the halls to her next class, she noticed two girls huddled together over a cell phone, whispering very quietly to each other. One girl glanced up and gave Spencer a warm smile, almost friendly even. Spencer visibly flinched, clearly tense and wondering why the girl would smile at her when typically, they had nothing to do with each other. No doubt this girl was affiliated with A-she then returned her attention to the cell phone in the other girl's hand, pointing at something on the screen. The first girl shook her head, laughing and tossing her long hair. By now, the girls knew, Spencer would be beyond tense and possibly ready to strike-which was why they had to get in first and step up the campaign to strike her before she could strike them. Unbeknown to Spencer, however, they had the advantage of a little camera planted in her bedroom-no bigger than a pinhead, yet able to record every move she made. And with that in mind, they continued to watch the footage to pick out a highlight.

At the same time, Hanna was freaking out over this stalker. Last night she had dreamed she was being chased by wolves-wolves that were vastly bigger and stronger than her, with evil-looking eyes and huge white teeth that gleamed-and as a result had got up and done some google-searching in a vain bid to try and figure out who this person was. Every search she entered, however, turned up nothing. And in the morning came another message-Stop searching and digging for answers-A which was quickly followed by Or else. This dioabolical person seemed to know everything she was doing, thinking about doing or even where or why she was doing it. And in what seemed typical A-style, they knew it hours before she did. Which, she supposed, was the whole point. Maybe if she met up with the others, they could try and figure it out together. Already starting to feel a little better, she pulled out her BlackBerry and texted the others to meet her so they could discuss this A person.

What she didn't know was that of course A was watching her and tracking her texts.

A slid the cell phone noiselessly out of her bag and fired off a quick text to her mentor. They're planning to meet up to discuss the A thing. Should we follow? It would be a great opportunity to let them know all at once that we don't plan on going away or being found out any time soon. Almost instantly a messeage came back: You're right. Meet me outside the school as soon as the final bell goes. You know what to bring. A dropped her things into her bag and walked off, sharp high heels stabbing the ground fiercely, creating a sound which clearly startled Hanna. A eased off and walked calmly, remembering that she was not to draw any extra attention to herself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

A and her mentor huddled over the cell phone, watching intently the footage of Spencer. There really wasn't a lot to see: Spencer, sitting at her desk with a textbook, then switching one book for another. She got up and stretched, walked out of the room and didn't return for a while. She reappeared, carrying a couple of books and putting them on her bookshelf, then lying down and putting her Sidekick away. She brushed out her hair, then pulled it back and disappeared from the room again.

They hurried to their History class, which they had together. Both girls slipped their cell phones out of their bags and kept them expertly hidden under their books, preparing for a conversation. A stretched her fingers, then scrunched them up. To the casual observer, she might have been flexing her hand in between taking pages of detailed notes. Her mentor, though, knew it was a signal, meaning _expect a text in a minute _and angled her cell ever so slightly to keep an eye on it. The message popped up a few seconds later. (M= Mentor)

_A: Spencer really wasn't doing anything we could use. Should we watch someone else instead for a day or two while collecting more footage?_

M: I'm not sure... We could split the work. You watch Spencer and I'll take Emily. Leave Hanna and Aria for a day or two, let them think you've gone.

_A: We could just let the camera keep recording and check in again in two or three days. That way, we'd still get something on her and be able to keep tabs on the others while we're at it._

M: You're right. We'll work it that way. Don't forget they're meeting after school. We should follow and listen in. We might get something that we can use.

(after school, Hanna, Emily, Aria and Spencer all meet at Spencer's house)

They all kept their cell phones out and watched them while discussing A. They heard a noise coming from upstairs and the four of them went into Spencer's room to check it out, but saw nothing. Spencer had the feeling that she was being watched, and said as much, while the other girls sat around her room looking aawkward and uncomfortable.

A few miles away, A and her mentor were sitting down and had just started up the computer, preparing to watch and listen intently. The mentor focused on the screen while A opened up a fresh Word document to note down the highlights. A quickly created headings with each girl's name and prepared to note down more ammunition.

**Emily:** fidgets a lot, looks around and checks her cell phone often. Thinks she's being discreet but isn't. She doesn't really think anyone knows her secrets.

**Aria:** a zombie today. She's keeping her cell phone out openly and keeps checking her inbox. She's looking relieved that there's no more messages. She thinks this is some dumb kid bluffing.

**Spencer:** says she feels like someone is watching her. Can definitely use that.

**Hanna: **is also fidgeting a lot and looks a little unperfect. She just thinks this is absolute crap and has better things to think about.

A and her mentor revised the notes, discussing how there was definitely something to use to get to each of the girls. They agree it's time for a little group reminder how A is not a dumb kid, not bluffing and really knows much more than any of them want.

_Hi girls! I haven't forgotten you. I just thought you'd like to know, I'm definitely not dumb, not a kid, and I'm definitely not bluffing. Be careful what you say. Remember, I'm always watching! You wouldn't want to offend me now, would you? -A_

After a few minutes, the four of them decided to try to lie low and not attract any more attention. Hanna, Emily and Aria walked to their cars and headed home.

'Time for a few individual notes, just to let them know I'm really not bluffing, do you think?' A asked.

'I think so', her mentor said with smile. She leaned over A's shoulder as she typed out and sent each message.

_Em! Learn how to be discreet when you want to check your messages subtly. Who are you kissing this week? A guy or another girl, like that time in seventh grade? Remember, A knows all. Love, A._

_Aria: How do you think I feel, being called a dumb kid? I'm not bluffing either. And how do you think Mommy would feel if she knew that you knew the truth about your dad's 'extra office work'-for almost four years? Secrets are meant to be told... XOXO, A._

_Spencer: Congratulations, you were right! Someone _is _watching you. Guess who? Me, of course! Don't do anything I wouldn't do! -A_

_Hanna: So you think this is crap? I'm sorry to hear that... Would you still think it was crap if I told you I know what happened that time in Annapolis? I know a lot more than you think I do. I wouldn't dismiss me too easily if I were you. You never know what could happen. Love ya, A._

'Perfect.'

A and her mentor decided now to separate for the evening. They had accomplished what they wanted to: reminding the girls that A was not going away any time soon, and that A was not bluffing.

A decided that they should figure out what they wanted to happen later. Her mentor wanted Spencer to come unhinged a little more, so they worked on that more. For now, Spencer would be the one to watch and listen to a little closer, and to begin with that, A would do some surveillance closer to Spencer's home. It would be good practise for her, and let her get an up-close-and personal view of what Spencer was doing. And, with a little luck, more insight into Spencer's mind.

The best thing? Spencer sometimes talked in her sleep. Generally, just indistinct mumblings. But if one was close enough, they might be able to make out actual words. And that could provide ammunition. They already had a lot, but it was always good to have back-up.

A grabbed her voice recorder and cell phone, slipping them into a tiny bag for later. She got everything organised so she could just go, following one of the key rules of her job: Don't do anything halfway. Take whatever you need to get it completely done.

And with that, she settled in to wait until the camera in Spencer's room showed total darkness and then that Spencer was asleep. She took her cue and slipped out into the dark night and jogged silently to Spencer's house, ducking easily around to where she needed to be and getting into place. She covered her hair with a black hat and waited.

**And there we have chapter 9. I'll work out in the next chapter what A sees and hears while hanging out at Spencer's place. I'll also work Emily and Aria into the next couple of chapters.**

**A question: Who do you want A and her mentor to be? I've read all the books and would like to avoid copying who it was in the books, but can't decide who I want them to be. So I'm putting it to you, the readers :) Also, I want to change the name of this fanfic to something shorter. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to hear them :)**

**Please review, and suggest who you want A and the mentor to be. It'll help me get more chapters up sooner :D**


	7. Chapter 7

_Previously: A had gone to Spencer__'__s house to listen in on her sleep talking and see if there was anything of use. _

**Chapter 7**

APOV

I settled into place as close to Spencer's room as I could manage. Just recently, I'd found something that was like a hearing aid, but the opposite. It enabled me, when I was wearing it, to have excellent hearing. I could hear through walls or from a distance. I waited forever for the light to go out, but Spencer didn't get straight into bed-she stood by the window for a moment looking slowly around. I held my breath as best I could and stayed as still as possible, shielding my phone so the glow wouldn't give me away. All other windows that I could see were dark, and with the super-hearing thing in my ear, I could hear snores and the even breathing of sleep. No talking or anything to indicate her parents were awake.

Finally, she got into bed and I relaxed my pose slightly. Enough that I was comfortable, but not so much that I'd get distracted. It was important to keep my body relaxed and stop from getting a cramp-a cramped leg can really slow you down if you need to make a quick getaway. My mentor had given me one particularly good piece of advice in our 'A commandments' as we called them-don't ever let your guard down completely. Unless, of course, you need to manipulate someone else. It was possibly the most obvious thing ever, and that would be why others wouldn't think of it. Others would slip up and fail. But my mentor and I were determined to cover all the bases. We were always careful, and we had to be. For instance, now. It was gone midnight. I had to be creative when I'd explained to my parents why I'd had to go out at 9:30p.m and probably wouldn't sleep in my own bed tonight. They thought a friend was upset about something and needed me. Yeah, not so much. The fact that it was a weekend helped my case.

I focused intently on the film. Spencer was restless tonight, tossing and turning in her sleep. I turned up the volume on my hearing and listened intently. Nothing so far except the sound of her breathing. It was not even or peaceful, but slightly ragged and she drew in a breath that was almost a gasp every so often.

I watched for about three hours and didn't get much. Spencer did mumble something about A and 'wonder who'. My favourite part was when she muttered 'go away' to herself-no doubt wishing I would. Sorry, Spence, no can do. I'm not quite bound by a contract, but there is more to this than just freaking someone out. Years ago, my mentor was beyond furious at me and I owed her something. Not a material thing either, but something deeper.

Given that it was now pushing 4 AM, I really had to get going and home before dawn broke. I quickly shot a text to my mentor to tell her what I heard and that I was now going home. She wasn't too happy with it, but I knew she was more frustrated with lack of what Spencer was saying. She knew that she couldn't ever do anything that would anger me: she was the brain behind this; I was the one who did the work. Then again, her constant scheming was work-my tasks were more the physical like following someone, or sitting outside a house in the cold at 3 AM when I could be in bed. My warm bed. If ever I quit being her lackey, she couldn't do it all. Actually, she could, but having two people split the work helped immensely. Moreover, she wanted to be able to see this through to the end. We both wanted to.

When I considered all the time I'd spent on this, and all the time my mentor had spent creating various schemes, it put everything back into perspective and I knew I wanted to see this through. She'd spent years figuring out how she wanted to get payback and now she knew. Years considering hundreds of possibilities, none of them quite good enough.

My thoughts returned to that night. The one that was infamous as being when Rosewood's golden girl went missing. Of course, I knew the truth, as did my mentor. We both knew everything there was that was worth knowing. When we stopped to catalogue everything we knew, that all added up to a hell of a lot. A knows everything, as our Pretty Little Liars know all too well. So does her mentor. It might seem OCD that we catalogue what we know, but it has to be done. We don't want to forget anything or miss something. It's almost too bad the rest of Rosewood doesn't know the truth about that night. It's probably a good thing though-the truth would blow their minds.

I arrived home and slipped in through the back door, texting my mentor to say I was home. While I waited for her, I got changed and put the heater on before booting up my computer. She arrived minutes later and we began to discuss what I'd seen and heard last night.

'I think we should back off on Spencer for a while. A is obviously on her mind and she might start snooping around or telling others about us if we keep working on her sanity', my mentor decided.

She was right. I turned to my computer and ran a quick Google-search to see if there were any reported stalkings by someone named A in Rosewood… those results showed nothing. Good, that meant that so far the girls were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

'So, should we focus on Aria for now?' I wondered.

'No, I think Hanna. She's much more vulnerable', she answered.

True. Hanna was so obsessed with looking good that she would be rattled, but she wouldn't try to dob A in. after all, she had her perfect image to keep up. How would it look if she went to the police and said she was being stalked? It would show all of Rosewood that her life was not entirely in her control and therefore she was not entirely perfect.

'Do you think we should also work on Emily some? I know she would be more likely to try going to the cops but she is the most emotional. She _still _believes Ali is alive. How do you think the police would react to her?' I mused, trying to put myself in the place of a police officer. Law enforcer. Ugh. We both despised them, but were also well aware that they were helpful people to know. After all, two girls who could create and pull off such a sophisticated scheme were obviously not stupid.

'I don't think she'd be stupid enough. We can always make clear what we'll do if she does go to the police. After all, what would Mommy and Daddy do if they found out she prefers girls? Send her away somewhere, is my guess. A convent.' my mentor said, reminding me that A was not afraid to play dirty… all Emily's swimming meets were always packed and that made my job so much easier, if it came to that.

A few days later, Emily was walking down the hallways at school and hoping that A was gone. After all, A had been silent for a while now. Maybe A, whoever she was, had given up. Or got bored.

Just then, her cell beeped and she pulled it out, anticipating the new message.

_Hi Em! How's your new girlfriend? I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten you-I haven't. If you're considering going to the cops about me, consider this: how will Mommy and Daddy, and the rest of the school, react finding out about your girlfriend? Stay quiet about me and I'll stay quiet about you. XO, A._

Emily froze where she was, looking around her surroundings. Just by the girl's bathroom, a small figure with black hair appeared to be looking at her, before turning and disappearing.

She continued walking down the hallway, darting anxious glances around her. Once outside, she hid her cell phone in her bag and looked around the parking lot: quite pointless really, as it was the end of the school day and students were everywhere. How could anyone pick out an anonymous person in these crowds?

If she'd looked up, though, she would've noticed a hot-air balloon hovering over the general are of Rosewood. Inside stood a girl with binoculars, taking in every detail and carefully observing what four girls in particular were doing.

Mentor POV

I laughed to myself as I watched the students pouring out of Rosewood Day from the hot air balloon. Taking a ride in one was a stroke of genius-I could take a pair of binoculars with me, and just appear to be the average tourist of Rosewood, wanting to see what it looked like from up above.

Emily was looking carefully around her, obviously trying to pick out someone in the crowd who might be A. How stupid can you get? Trying to see someone, she didn't know, in a crowd of dozens of students. Next step, go and look through the haystack for the needle.

Actually, we could probably use that. It meant that the identity of A meant more to her-she wasn't inclined to ignore A and hope the messages would go away. She was taking it seriously. Same as Spencer… Might have to work on Emily some more then. Encourage her towards trying to find out the truth about what happened that June night, three years ago. Really, it was the rare person who knew anything. Never mind all the people who created conspiracy theories of some kind.

There was one theory that no one in Rosewood had hit upon yet, and we wanted to keep it that way.

The balloon began to descend to the ground and I typed a reminder to myself that Emily should hear from A again soon.

Truthfully, I was grateful that I'd been able to manipulate someone into doing my bidding. That wasn't hard, considering a threat I made. Granted, the threat wasn't recent, but without having A to mentor, I wouldn't be much. And really, she offered it. Penance. Punishment. Payback. Compensation.

Call it what you will, but she offered to do my dirty work while I schemed. How could I refuse? Of course, I was totally capable of doing it all myself. But considering what she had done to me, I deserved to have her as my lackey, doing everything. She thought so too, otherwise she wouldn't have offered. And without the offer, I would have carried out the threat and no one would have been any the wiser.

It works out better this way. I wanted revenge. I was getting it.

Years ago, we hadn't gotten on, but we'd since buried the animosity in order to successfully execute our plan. Now, we got on quite well-the A thing was the deepest connection we had. Kind of sad, really. Ironic too, that a revenge plot is about the only thing bonding us together.

We learnt to put jealousy and negativity behind us. I can't afford to lose A. We're so deeply into the A plan and getting my revenge that if she pulled out today, I'm screwed.

Luckily, I know she never would. I guilted her a lot. I used all the tricks I had. First, the yelling at her anger. The 'you've ruined my life' tactic. Then the tears. Then the 'I hate you'.

I think the last one got to her. She looked genuinely miserable, and I almost felt bad. Then she spoke the words that appeased me, interested me enough to stop me carrying out my threat.

'What can I do to make it up to you? I'll do anything', she said.

I remember I glared at her, wondering what I could ask for… Suddenly, an expression came over her face-the one that said she was scheming. Not just an innocent prank either, but something big. I waited.

She started talking, and I found myself mesmerized by the idea that was forming as she spoke. She spoke quicker, wanting to get it over with. Her words began to run together a bit, and I strained to listen, trying to catch everything.

Her idea was simple, yet so brilliant.

More to the point, I could get everything I wanted. Of course, I'd have to give her something in return, but only after she'd done what I wanted and I was satisfied.

I wanted revenge. On her, and everyone else. This would be the perfect way to get that. Her, doing my dirty work, putting herself at risk. That would satisfy my revenge on her.

Freaking everyone in town out because suddenly, things weren't golden in Rosewood. That would satisfy my need for revenge on everyone else.

She went away, and I made sure to communicate with her while she was away. We stayed in touch the whole time, making sure to carefully develop our plot. Mainly through letters, and since you never knew what nosy people might read them, we were careful to only refer to it a few words at a time.

That was then, and this is now. Here we are, working on a downright brilliant plan.

I texted her with what I'd seen of Emily that afternoon, and she answered that she'd be there soon.

Shortly after, she appeared in my room. She suggested that she try to make friends with one of the girls, particularly Emily or Aria. The perfect way to get more information on either one of them, and by extension, all of them.

Perfect. After all, Emily was the sort of the type to show a new kid around school.

We agreed the best way for A to befriend Emily would be to pretend to be lost and ask her for directions. Of course, Emily would see in A something that Ali had-maybe the blue eyes, and let down her guard. Since we knew how to make people see things that weren't there, it wouldn't be hard to find contact lenses that were the exact same blue as Ali's eyes.

We set up the plan for tomorrow-A had gym with Emily, so that would be the perfect time-then A headed out to go and do some more research.

It's amazing, the information you can get from watching someone when they don't know you're watching.

**And **that concludes another chapter. I had this chapter as a work-in-progress for a couple of weeks, so please review and tell me what you'd like to see happen.

Question: do you think anyone should be killed off?

I've now decided who A and her mentor are, so am working with that.


	8. Chapter 8

_Previously: A and her mentor had decided that A would try to befriend Emily to get some more info about Emily and the other girls._

**Chapter 8**

APOV

I picked up the blue contact lenses at the chemist and left, heading for home. I tried on the contacts and they worked perfectly. My eyes were now the exact same shade of blue as Alison's eyes.

The next day at school, I would approach Emily after class and ask for directions to my next class. School had only been back a few weeks and I was a new student, so it wouldn't be weird for me to say I was lost.

I hoped that Emily would remain as predictable as my mentor and I thought she would be. Hopefully she would give me the directions I needed and agree to walk with me there.

That would be enough for me to ask a few questions about her-keeping up the new student appearance-and then suggest that we hang out sometime.

I gritted my teeth at the thought. Emily always was the quietest and most boring of the little seventh-grade clique. Having to spend time with her was not the most appealing way to spend an afternoon, but I was a good actor and could fake a wide range of emotions. I could definitely pretend to enjoy her company and be interested in what she had to say, for a couple of hours at least.

After gym, I approached her with my request for directions. She seemed happy to walk with me to class and chattered on. One of those girls who talks a lot, it seems.

Guess the blue contacts worked. It seemed that my eyes reminded her of Alison's.

We made plans to hang out at her house the next afternoon, and I headed home to begin compiling questions.

Subtle is always the best way to go with this kind of thing. Silence helps too: if you want to extract information from someone, stay quiet. Chances are, they'll quickly start finding the silence awkward and blurt something out.

Sometimes, whatever they say to fill in the silence is exactly what you want to hear.

I texted my mentor to tell her of my plans for tomorrow afternoon, and to ask if I shouldn't take a voice recorder with me.

We agreed the voice recorder would be best-that way I could act natural. It helped too-I wouldn't have to try to remember everything she said while acting natural and friendly.

My iPod nano would do the job well. The recorder would be switched on and it would stay in my pocket, completely hidden and completely inconspicuous. As long as it was charged enough, I would be able to record everything either of us said that afternoon.

The time passed quickly, and soon it was after school the next day. I left my last class of the day and met Emily outside the school, surreptitiously making sure the iPod recorder was on. I would start the questioning gently and then see if I could delve into finding out if she was gay, bi or just confused. My money was on the last.

As we walked to her house, we talked about swimming and various school activities. She asked how I was liking Rosewood Day and getting on with the other students okay.

So far, I was bored. I wanted nothing more than to dig deeper, jump straight into asking her about her sexuality and grill her about all the people she'd gone out with-boy or girl. I knew that I couldn't. If I made such an amateur mistake… Well, I may as well just say I was A and have done with it.

I would have to work on leading her to give me the information I wanted. Maybe if I were to tell her about an ex-boyfriend of mine that would draw her in.

With that in mind, I quickly began to create a boyfriend who I'd had to break up with when I moved to Rosewood. After Emily finished talking about the time she'd been tempted to quit swimming but then decided against it, I made my move.

I sighed and looked down at the ground-a move calculated to draw her sympathy and the question of 'are you okay?'. I wasn't disappointed. I told her about having to break up with my boyfriend when I moved to Rosewood, and how he'd been afraid of the long-distance thing.

'Wow. That sounds really familiar', she commented.

'How so?' I asked, wondering if this would lead her into telling me what I wanted to know

She tried to brush it off as nothing, but I kept quiet, wanting to seem like I wasn't going to press the question.

Finally, as I knew it would, the quiet got to her and she explained that it sounded just like her ex-girlfriend's story of when _she'd_ dumped her boyfriend to move to Rosewood.

Bingo.

I asked a few shallow questions, acting as though I was only mildly interested in what had happened. Only really asking out of politeness.

Or, in this case, well concealed professional interest.

She gave me what I needed though, and my work here was done. For now, anyway.

I said I had to get going and left, suggesting that we go shopping or something sometime later.

Once I was safely out of view of Emily's house, I started running, keen to get home and play back the recording to my mentor. Definitely, something we could use. Better yet, Emily had told me stuff about Aria, Spencer and Hanna.

What particularly interested me what the fact that after Ali disappeared, the four girls drifted apart. Aria had gone to Iceland for years. I was glad she'd returned-getting revenge on the four of them wouldn't be the same if Aria wasn't around. After all, her little secret would eventually ruin her family.

Hanna had obviously undergone a major transformation. The photos of her in seventh grade were very different from her today-thin and almost flawless looks. I have to say, knowing the ways she went to look so flawless tarnished her slightly. I guess that's just my opinion.

And Spencer… Still the same. So perfect and yet so imperfect. She really needed to relax her manic studying and open her eyes-quit stealing her sister's boyfriends and realize that there were guys who liked her for her. Why they would, I don't know, but to each their own.

Once home, I called my mentor and hooked my iPod up to the computer, adjusting the speaker volume. She arrived a few minutes later and swiped a pen and paper off my desk, ready to take notes. I opened up itunes and found the recording, then clicked Play.

Our voices spilled from the computer speakers and my mentor began to scribble notes. She smiled approvingly in acknowledgement of my questioning tactics. I knew they were good-I had been trained by the best and had plenty of time practising. When she was away, I'd had to improvise and work a lot of it out on my own. Now, her approval meant a lot to me. Of course, in keeping with _not letting my guard down_, I couldn't let on to that.

'This is good. We'll keep it for now and leave Emily alone for a few more days, then work on her a bit more. I think she spoke so freely because she was already worried from yesterday's note, and so she let her guard down', my mentor commented. Her eyes were glued to her pages of notes.

'You're right. In the meantime, should we remind Aria and Hanna that A is still here?' I asked, already wondering how I could get at Hanna.

'Go for Hanna. She'll be sure to think you're a pathetic loser. This is a golden opportunity to show her that you're anything but pathetic,' she decided. A look came over her face that I recognised well. She was planning something major.

Something that would prove to four girls, Hanna in particular, that A held an incredible amount of power.

'What do you have in mind?' I wondered, already looking forward to her ideas.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully-whatever it was, she was thinking it through very carefully, working to make it foolproof and at the same time, straightforward to accomplish.

'What if…' she started slowly. 'What if you were able to get into her house and 'rearrange' everything in her room and bathroom? And happened to make a few things go missing? The idea being that you do it when she's at home? Of course, to eliminate the possibility of it being a thief, you left a note-typed, of course-making clear that it was you?'

'Risky, but good. It'll show I'm excellent at sneaking around and more than able to do things that seem impossible. Better yet, she won't be expecting it,' I smirked, already imagining Hanna's reaction. 'When do I do it?'

'Nighttime. It has fewer risks. If you had a hood and scarf over most of your face and hair, the darkness would pretty much obscure your features. Wear a big jersey to hide yourself, and for warmth. Also wear jeans; you want to be able to move around easily. Use different coloured contacts and wear shoes that are comfortable and make minimum noise. And, obviously, gloves of some kind. Wait til she and her mom are asleep and sneak in.'

I clicked on my folder on Hanna and opened up the security subfolder… They had alarms but only had them on during the day when no one was home, and always left the back door unlocked.

I would have to take oil with me to ensure the door would open silently and slip in that way. I'd also have to keep an eye on Hanna's dog, which sleeps in her room.

'Type the note now, make sure to use a really girly and pretty font, and then you could go tonight. I'll get you some latex gloves. You'll need to wear several pairs to protect against them tearing. We don't want your fingerprints to be anywhere', my mentor said.

I quickly opened a new word document and selected my favourite font, then typed 'Dear Hanna: Surprise! Love, A.'

My mentor was wearing gloves of her own as she carefully pulled the several layers over my hands, before pulling hers off. I covered my face with a scarf, careful to leave it loose enough to breathe over my nose and mouth. She stepped behind me, and pulled all my hair back from my face before tucking it into the hood of my oversized black jersey. She clipped a few strands into place, and then tightened the strings on the hood. The last thing I wanted was a strand of hair coming loose and falling out somewhere in Hanna's room.

We waited quietly as the sky went from blue to navy, to near black and finally the stars began coming out.

I folded the note to fit into the pocket of my jeans and we walked downstairs.

'Text me when you get inside. Take photos on your phone and text me when you're done. Have fun'. My mentor headed back upstairs and I quietly walked the distance to Hanna's house.

From there, it was easy. I knew from my research on her house that they had nothing that could pick up on my appearance. Evidently, Ashley Marin didn't care much if someone broke in at 2 A.M while she and her daughter slept.

I snuck in the back, the door swinging noiselessly. I quickly texted my mentor to say I was in the house-no easy thing when your fingers are covered in several layers of latex-set my phone to completely silent and crept up the stairs to Hanna's room. Listening carefully revealed she was asleep and snoring noisily.

I quickly snuck to outside Ashley Marin's room and listened-she wasn't even there. Still at the office? Well, that made it just that little bit easier.

Bathroom first. I found the desired door and gently opened it. Knowing Hanna, she'd be having a shower in the morning and then caking on her makeup.

In a case like this, good eyesight is an excellent thing. There was only the dim light of the streetlight to guide me, as I mixed up her facial cleansers and tipped out her hair products.

On to the makeup. I snapped various eye and lip pencils, opened tubes of mascara and left the wand on the vanity. By the time she went to use it, it'd be half dried out and useless. I drew on the countertop with lipsticks and, for the fun of it, drew a giant smiley face on the mirror in foundation. I quickly put my phone to video camera and scanned around the bathroom, zooming in on various items that I'd scattered all over the floor and countertops.

Now to her room. Stealth was essential. I quickly rearranged her desk, piling on books that would last in a tower until I was gone. I distributed piles of papers across the desk and ripped Post-It notes off the stack, tossing them wherever.

Closet. Before I walked inside the wardrobe, I noticed one thing that would increase my fun: scissors. I snatched them up and headed into the closet, yanking things off their hangers and snapping stiletto heels. I made sure that I only threw clothes, as they wouldn't make any sounds on impact. For the _pièce de résistance_, I tossed clothes all over her room, taking care not to have any land near her or on the bed.

With the scissors, I ran through her wardrobe, indiscriminately hacking the arm off a shirt, a hole in the knee of a pair of jeans… I slashed the hems of various skirts and sliced her favourite top right down the middle. I snagged the threads of her cashmere jerseys, knowing it would just take a little tug on the loose thread and the fabric would rapidly unravel. I left two jerseys almost completely threadbare and tore up some jeans so they were completely ragged. Finally, I took out a can of spray paint and pressed the nozzle, covering half the clothes with black paint. I cut the handles and straps of several bags, rendering them useless. Unless, of course, Hanna wanted to use them as oversized clutches. I would take the straps so they couldn't be sewn back on.

Would it be overkill to take a couple of her bottles of perfume and smash them beside her car? The delicate glass wouldn't make much sound… No, it wasn't overkill. As it was, I would make sure to drop them by the car and not throw them from a window. There's no such thing as being too cautious.

After I'd pocketed the bottles of perfume, I went back to her books. I expertly tore several pages from random books. Then, I strew them around the room.

The room was a disaster zone. My work here was done.

I quickly took more photos of the room and the closet, making sure to focus on the ruined clothes. That would be sure to please my mentor.

Time for the parting note. I borrowed a pen and drew an H on the tightly folded paper, before placing it right by her face on the pillow.

After that, I snapped the pen, made sure it was leaking, and then placed it on the pristine bedspread.

Finally, I grabbed the desk chair and climbed onto it, before skilfully putting in a tiny video camera. I knew my mentor and I would want to watch Hanna's reaction. Once I was out of the camera frame, I switched it on and walked out of the room. Hanna would never notice it-it was that small, and unless she spent a lot of time staring at that particular corner of her room, she would never notice it.

I hurried noiselessly downstairs and out the back door. I texted my mentor to say I was finished and leaving Hanna's house, then raced home. She was waiting up for me when I got to my room and helped me remove the gloves. I brought up that night's photos on my phone and handed it to her. She scrolled through them, laughing softly until she came to the end of the photo slideshow.

She looked up at me and smiled.

'I wish we could see her reaction. That would be good for another note.' she said with a small sigh.

'We can. Pass the laptop?' I responded. I booted up the laptop and opened up the connection. The footage showed Hanna sleeping in a horribly messy room.

'Wow. I never thought she was so messy', I commented with a grin.

'Let's set this to record mode, and get to sleep. We can watch it after school', my mentor suggested.

'You're right. Hanna won't be waking up for a few hours anyway. We might as well get some sleep.' I agreed.

My mentor leaned over and hugged me, thanking me for carrying out the job.

She and I both knew that what I'd done that night proved to Hanna that A wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry-when Hanna woke up to see it, that is-and A was much more powerful than Hanna gave her credit for.

It was a job very well done.

**That's **another chapter… two chapters in 3 days is something of a record for me.

So… I'd still like feedback. I love reviews J


	9. Chapter 9

_Previously: A had been in Hanna's room and completely trashed the place while Hanna slept as a way to show Hanna what A was capable of doing._

**Chapter 9**

Hanna POV

I woke up to a _thump_ from my desk, something that sounded like a book hitting the ground. I opened my eyes and looked over at my desk in time to see a stack of books, piled haphazardly on the desk, sliding to the ground like an avalanche. Something jabbed my cheek and I picked it up-a tightly folded piece of paper with an H on the outside.

Looking around, I noticed what a mess my room was. Normally my room was a tad messy, but today it was messy in the extreme. Clothes were thrown everywhere. Then, I noticed the dark red stain on the duvet-blood? Next, I noticed the pen snapped in half on the ground. Somehow, a snapped red pen had ended up on the duvet and leaked.

I realized the extent of the mess didn't end there. It appeared that someone had ripped various pages out of books and thrown them everywhere.

Walking into the bathroom, I was met by an extension of the disaster zone that was my room. Makeup was scattered all over the place. All my eye and lip pencils were snapped and my mascara was useless-totally dried.

Weirder yet, there was a smiley face on the mirror. And underneath the smiley face, was a tiny capital letter A.

As for my closet… it was horrible. Someone had taken scissors and slashed up most of my clothes. Then, sprayed on almost everything, there was black paint. It ranged from small splotches of paint, to completely covering whole items. My handbags were similarly affected-all the handles were hacked off and now, they were useless.

I hurried back into my room and grabbed the paper that had been on my pillow. It took ages to unfold, but the inside message was simple.

Of course. It had to have been A.

Just then, my cell phone beeped.

_Dear Hanna: Now you know what A is capable of doing. Consider this as a reminder: I'm not going anywhere. And I'm most definitely not some pathetic loser. Love, A._

How had A managed to do this? And when? I would've noticed if it had been done during the day.

During the night then?

I quickly ran through the house, checking locks on doors and testing the various windows. How had A managed to get in?

Maybe there would be another note today, telling me at least how A had managed to get it all done. I knew that I couldn't ask any questions: if I went to the cops, A would probably retaliate with something even worse.

I couldn't tell my mom: she was too concerned with work. Besides, she'd probably just remind me to check the doors and windows before I went to bed.

As for my old friends, they probably had their own A problems to deal with. Besides which, we didn't tell each other much about our A notes. Therefore, I would have to keep quiet and hope A sent another note sometime soon. I wanted answers and soon.

I tossed all my school stuff into my bag and went to the car. As I went to unlock the door, I noticed an overly sweet smell. I bent down and noticed shards of glass and a dark patch on the garage floor. Someone had evidently smashed my bottles of perfume right next to my car. There were four caps from various perfume bottles lined up by the front wheel: I recognized my favourites and sighed.

A really didn't do things halfway.

I got to school and went to my locker. It took several tries to open it, because I was hoping for another note.

I wasn't disappointed. Another typed note fluttered to the floor.

_Hannakins-take what I did as a warning. If I can get into your house and wreck almost everything you have, at night when you're asleep, what else do you think I could do? Don't do anything to anger me. Otherwise, you might just find out what else I can do. -A_

I flipped the note over and saw more typed words.

_P.S. Don't tell anyone about what I did or about me. I hope you learned a valuable lesson from yesterday._

Great. Just as I thought. Well, I still had learned a lesson. Don't try to ignore A. Clearly A is much more powerful than I had ever given her credit for being. And that explained how A had managed to trash my room without my noticing.

The next thing I would have to do would be go shopping today-replace all the clothes and things that had been trashed last night.

I managed to get through the day, with the feeling that someone was watching me and laughing at me.

APOV

I made sure I got to school extra early. I had another little note I wanted to deliver, before going to the library and pretending to do homework.

Once I was safely hidden in the library, I snuck out my phone and texted my mentor, asking if we should send out another group message to them today. She replied quickly: they would be meeting at lunch today to discuss A. Hanna would be going shopping this afternoon to replace all the stuff I trashed.

Before lunch, my mentor and I agreed that we would go to the library and find a table to 'study'. Of course, the table would be located close enough that we could hear everything, but not so close that we looked like we were listening in.

We wouldn't be able to risk talking, but we would pass notes to each other-another way to keep up the studying façade.

As soon as lunch began, we met up at the library, and took seats at the best-hidden table there was. Luckily, it also afforded the best view of anyone coming in.

Spencer was first to arrive and waited for the others, taking flashcards out of her bag and studying while she waited. Emily and Aria arrived next, followed by Hanna. Hanna looked the most anxious and kept glancing around. Maybe she expected someone to leap out at her with another broken eye pencil.

I carefully folded a page of paper into a paper airplane while I waited for them to start talking, and then picked up a fresh piece of paper and generic black pen. My mentor and I began to listen more carefully. Hanna and Spencer definitely seemed the most stressed. Apparently, they sometimes felt like they were being watched.

Aria didn't seem concerned. She was getting complacent because she hadn't heard anything from A in a while. My mentor leaned over and scribbled on my pad of paper. _You'll have to do something about that._ I nodded. Yes, I had to remind Aria that I was there. I hadn't forgotten her.

Finally, it was time to make my move. Using careful printing, in very indistinctive handwriting, I spelled out my messages.

_Aria! Don't worry; I haven't forgotten you. How are things at home? Something interesting might happen soon; although I'm sure you would rather it didn't… Love, A._

_Em: open your eyes. I've noticed you're very oblivious. It's quite frustrating._

_Spencer and Hanna:_ _you're right, someone is watching you. Moi, of course. But then, I always am. Hanna, just a reminder: don't tell anyone about you-know-what._

_Remember girls, A is always watching and A knows all._

_Love ya!_

_-A_

I pushed the paper over to my mentor. She scanned it quickly and nodded, looking up.

I pulled it back, folded it neatly and tucked it into the paper plane. Since we couldn't use phones in the library, I'd have to be creative. I knocked a pen onto the floor and my mentor reached to get it-I shook my head and slid under the table. She looked confused.

I scooted forward with the plane in my hand and leaned forward, making sure I was still concealed. I aimed the plane and sent it flying. It went perfectly, skimming a few inches above the ground before the sharp tip hit Hanna's bare ankle.

I hastily dodged backwards and climbed back into my seat before scribbling a note to my mentor. _I just sent the paper plane. I couldn't send it at this level. Someone would see._ She smiled and put a finger to her lips.

'This means A must be here' Spencer fretted.

'Unless A had someone pass it to us' Aria suggested.

Emily just looked scared. That girl is such a wimp; she needs to toughen up some.

Hanna's expression was priceless. Some fear, some shock, some anger. In addition, uncertainty.

_They need to learn to talk more quietly. And I'm not sure how stupid they are for discussing A in public. Should I do something? _I wrote on another piece of paper.

She looked up and frowned, indicating a negative answer. She then tapped her wrist, and I glanced at the time. Lunch was almost over. We would wait until almost everyone had left the library before going.

I collected all the notes we'd written that lunchtime and tucked them into a pocket in my bag. Later, I would burn them all. Destroying any evidence was the most valuable thing I could do to protect my mentor and myself.

We left the library and split up to go to our classes, my mentor reminding me quietly I needed to look in on Aria after school. I agreed, and headed to class to plan the afternoon.

After school, I went straight home, took the notes out the bag and put them into the fireplace, lighting them with a cigarette lighter. I watched as the flames obliterated every word and every inch of paper.

I'd always been fascinated by fire. That fire was capable of so much damage, and could get so out-of-control so quickly. When burning paper, I loved to watch the paper turn darker and darker, disintegrating into ash. It was why my mentor and I used paper sometimes-computer files could be traced, as could emails. Paper was almost untraceable. After all, no one could suspect you of buying a pad of paper to write on. And if you burnt paper, that was irreversible. You couldn't undelete it or trace it. Paper ash revealed nothing. It could be anything: a letter, a newspaper, class notes, a magazine. And of course, the way the flames glowed different colours-orange, red, sometimes blue-fire was gorgeous.

Once I'd watched the fire burn out and had checked that there was no remaining white paper in the fireplace, I headed out to pay a little visit to Aria.

I jogged to Aria's place and watched her through the windows, camouflaged perfectly by the forest. I could hear the phone ring and put in my hearing enhancer so I could listen to her, and snuck forward a few paces. She answered it, but didn't say any names. I listened harder; trying to make out the voice on the other end-it was male and someone probably about our age.

Sean Ackard? She seemed interested in him these days-I wonder how Hanna felt about that. He seemed to like her too.

_Focus_, I commanded myself.

She was sounding more upset and Sean offered to come over to her house, so they could talk. _Excellent._

After I waited a few minutes, I saw his Audi pull into the driveway and he walked up to the house, ringing the doorbell. Aria opened the door almost immediately and they walked back into the living room-thank god for that, as I now had a clear view of both of them.

They were talking about her dad's affair and how she still hadn't told her mom. _Interesting._ She was telling a guy she barely knew about her dad's affair and yet she still hadn't told her mom-after three years. Not the best thing to do Aria. Still, I can use it.

What should I do? Tell her to tell her mom? Or just tell her mom myself? I could tell her dad to come clean… track down the girl and tell her to leave a married man alone.

It bugs me when people do this kind of thing. My mentor too. Here is a married man cheating with someone who isn't a whole lot older than his daughter-that's just wrong. I really ought to reveal it. Her family would be torn up, but Aria deserves it. Besides, it just shows a lack of morals to cheat.

Once Sean was gone, I would make a 'suggestion' to Aria-she work out how to make it all stop. Or I'd do it for her.

I quickly typed a reminder to myself-how fair was it that her new boyfriend (if that's what Sean was) knew about her dad's affair when her poor mom was still completely in the dark?

Finally, Sean had to go, and I made sure I was completely hidden by the forest. I watched his car pull out of the driveway and quickly started composing my text, keeping my eyes on Aria. I wanted it to reach her before she went upstairs, so I got to see her reaction.

_Aria: don't you think you should tell your mom about your dad's affair? I really don't think you should be telling Sean about it before you tell your mom-or should I tell her for you? -A_

Sent. The envelope icon swirled around the screen for a minute before showing the message in my sent items.

I heard a beeping from the house-Aria picked up her cell and opened the new text. Her face paled and she looked around before turning and walking in the other direction. I wasn't entirely sure where she would be going but took it as my chance to take off, jogging through the woods and then running home.

At home, I checked my messages and called my mentor to tell her I'd just left Aria's house and had learnt some interesting information.

She materialized in my room shortly after and asked what I'd learnt-I forwarded my note to her and she quickly read it, looking up when she was done.

'I found out that her mom is still oblivious and that she's telling her new boyfriend about the affair before she's thinking of telling her mom' I said, watching as my mentor's eyes widened.

'That's pretty low' my mentor commented, her eyes glazing over thoughtfully. 'We ought to teach Aria a lesson. Give her a time limit to tell her mom. I don't want her mom to be oblivious to it until Mike goes to college.'

_Aria: since I'm being generous, I'm giving you two weeks to tell your mom about the affair. If you haven't done it by then, I will. -A_

I put the phone in my mentor's outstretched hand and she glanced at the message, taking it in.

'That's good. Short, simple, to the point. Send it now' she encouraged.

I clicked send and watched the envelope spiral as the message went through.

'Start drafting your letter for if Aria fails to tell her mom. Make it short, less than a page and anonymous' my mentor advised me. She handed me pen and paper-I wasn't going to write this on the computer and risk it being traced-then said something about going up to the attic and left.

I scratched out a first draft, but it was much too long and full of mistakes.

My second try was better-within the required length, but gave away too much detail.

At last, I had the perfect note. It was short, two paragraphs, and very businesslike.

My mentor returned carrying a clunky typewriter that looked like it was from the Stone Age and set it on my desk. Apparently, this was what I was using to write out this letter. Actually, it was perfect-nothing on it could be traced, and it would mean I didn't have to write by hand.

I gave her the letter and she examined it, making a couple of small corrections.

Now, I had to monitor the Montgomery family and see if Aria said anything.

The two weeks passed quickly, in a blur of homework and extracurricular work-mainly scheming with my mentor and 'research'. At the end of the two weeks, I heard Aria telling Sean her mom was still completely oblivious.

Right. Time to show Aria what happened when she didn't listen to A.

I went to bed early one night, preparing myself to go for a quick run at 2 A.M. My mentor stayed over that night and woke me so I didn't need the alarm clock. While I got dressed in warm, dark clothes, she put the typed letter in an envelope and addressed it to Ella Montgomery.

I took the letter and left the house quietly, taking a shorter route to Aria's house. As I approached, I slowed my steps, looking for any lights in the house or any signs of consciousness. There was none.

I shoved the letter in the mailbox and left, texting my mentor as I came closer to the house. The back door was slightly ajar when I went to it, and I tiptoed in, hurrying up to my room and getting changed.

My mentor was waiting, browsing online for any reports of a stalker known as A in Rosewood. As with the last time we'd checked, there was none.

'Most of the time, Ella collects the mail. She'll be the one to get A's note and probably confront her husband and Aria tomorrow. Chances are good one of them will move out' I told my mentor, watching her as she clicked through another website.

She agreed and added with a laugh 'So tomorrow, the happy Montgomery family won't be so happy.'

Exactly.

'Remember to email Aria later today and tell her that this sort of thing is what comes of not doing as A says' she said.

'Noted and intended. Probably later, like around midnight, give the dust some time to settle' I said. After all, I don't want to rub the salt in the wound too soon-I wouldn't want to encourage Aria to go to the cops.

I flipped back the covers on my bed and got in. Just as I was about to go to sleep, I heard my mentor's voice once more before I fell asleep.

'You know, I'm really glad you're doing this for me.'

**Here's **another chapter. I delayed posting this-I meant to put it up yesterday or the day before, but decided not to out of respect for the 29 men who died in the mine disaster. New Zealand has been hit hard. So here it is today.

Anyway, if you have any feedback or comments I'd love to hear them J


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I can't remember if I said this before, but this story is set when the new A has arrived. Mona as A is dead and the new A is here. So this would be set after Unbelievable.**

_Previously: A dropped off the letter to Aria__'__s mom, detailing Byron__'__s affair, since Aria hadn't told Ella about it herself._

_A/N: some of this chapter (Aria__'__s perspective anyway) is inspired by the book-if I remember rightly, Flawless-which Sara Shepard owns, so I__'__m giving credit where credit__'__s due. Also, a couple of things make reference to something mentioned in Wanted, so if you haven't read it, something could be a spoiler-or not._

**Chapter 10**

AriaPOV

I couldn't shake the sense that someone was watching, or that something would happen soon. This feeling of déjà vu was beyond annoying.

Then again, there was a new A. it's true what they say: you're not paranoid if you're really being watched.

All day at school, I was anxious, trying to find a sign of what might happen. I think the stress was making me see things: several times, I caught a flash of blond hair, and twice I thought I saw a pair of blue eyes staring at me. And yet, when I blinked and looked again, the eyes weren't there.

If A's goal was to make me crazy, she was succeeding. At least, I assumed A was a girl. Most of the notes sounded too female-if a guy was writing them, they'd sound a lot different. Not many guys would sign a note with the _XO_ or sarcastic _love ya_.

Driving home that afternoon, I realized what today was. A had given me two weeks to tell Mom about Dad's affair. Two weeks is fourteen days. Today, it was sixteen days since A's note telling me to tell Mom.

Crap. A almost certainly would have done it by now. After all, she wasn't exactly the type to be generous and give second chances. Maybe if I got to the mailbox first, or raced for the phone every time it rang, I could intercept A's message.

Except, I couldn't. A was bound to know where Ella worked-what was to say that even if I got rid of a letter, A wouldn't just send a copy to where Ella worked? Or email? A could probably be very creative when she needed to.

I pulled into my driveway, wondering if I could postpone going inside by reversing and taking off somewhere. Maybe not. It would be better to get out and go inside. There might still be time to do damage control.

I walked inside and instantly knew that Ella knew. Lying on the table was a letter, creased and looking like it had been written on a typewriter from the early nineteenth century.

'How could you not tell me?' Ella asked. 'You knew for all that time and never said anything.'

How could I explain this? I'd wanted to tell her, but Byron had asked me not to say anything. Although, they say hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now, I saw that I should have told Ella straightaway. If I had, she and Byron could've worked it out together. As it was, divorce for them now looked like a definite thing. It was my fault just as much as it was Byron's, in a way.

Mom probably wouldn't trust me again too easily either. Sean had been right. I had put too much pressure on myself and yet not done anything about it. She picked up the letter and handed it to me. 'I think you should read this. Then, maybe it would be better if you could stay somewhere else for a while' she said quietly.

My gaze went to the letter. Short, only a couple of paragraphs, but effective.

_Dear Mrs Montgomery,_

_It concerns me that your husband has been having an affair for the past three or four years-since before your family moved to Iceland, and that you still appear to have no knowledge of it. The girl is an ex-student of his, not all that much older than your daughter is. I feel that you may already have suspected something of the sort, which undoubtedly makes confirmation worse._

_I feel compelled to add that Aria has been aware of this for about the same period that the affair has been going on. However, she clearly never told you anything about it. Even when someone suggested she tell you, she did nothing. As someone else who knows about it, I felt someone should tell you._

_A concerned citizen._

The letter slipped from my hand and floated lightly to the ground. It was odd, that something so insubstantial and delicate could do so much damage. Even odder that the same thing that could do such damage, could be damaged in a multitude of ways.

A certainly knew what she was doing. A few well-selected words arranged into an anonymous letter could destroy a family. I didn't doubt that Byron was moving out soon-probably going to go live with the other girl.

With that, I went upstairs to pack some things and try to find somewhere to live.

Mentor POV

I waited patiently for A. She was currently seeing if anything had happened in the Montgomery household. Personally, I was willing to bet that the proverbial had hit the fan.

Just then, I heard the sound of running. A was in my room a minute later. She settled onto my desk chair, yanking off her oversize hooded jersey and tossing it aside.

I put my book aside and looked up at her, waiting for the report.

'The family is broken. Bryon is moving out and Ella kicked Aria out. When I left, Aria was arranging to stay over at Sean's house for a while. So far, Mike doesn't know yet-he was at lacrosse. Poor kid, coming home to find his dad and sister have left she said, idly toying with a piece of hair.

Good. Things have worked out just the way I wanted them to. This is better even than if Aria had up the courage to tell her mom. Payback's a bitch.

She pulled out her blocked-number cell and quickly typed for a minute, then handed the cell to me to read the screen. I smirked and watched as she hit Send.

This was always my favourite part of what I was doing. The feeling of triumph as I knew someone was about to get a nasty message, or when I knew something was going to happen that could shake a person up.

Best of all, the _knowing._ I knew everything, and not just about Aria, Emily, Spencer and Hanna. Of course, I'd had to share that knowledge with A when we were working everything out. To help her, I made flowcharts. Powerpoint presentations on who had done what-who kissed whom, who stole and who told lies. What lies they told.

The lies, for me, were both the best and worst part. They were the best because of what the lies covered up. And they were the worst because people-four girls in particular, expected to be able to lie and get away with it. Day after day, week after week… carrying on those lies over the years.

In a way, I was doing a service. I was teaching them that it isn't sensible to cover up secrets with lies. What a combination… I also wanted to uncover the secrets that had the potential to ruin families and hurt people. Secrets have a tendency to eat away at people, stress them out from the hassle of keeping a secret. Besides that, secrets could hurt other people. It was better to get them out in the open where people knew about it and then the people involved could get over it and move on. Granted, I was teaching them through A, who was in a way my messenger girl. But A was much more than a messenger. She was working exceptionally hard on this. I knew she wanted to do everything perfectly for her demanding mentor. And demanding I was. I had to be, to motivate myself to teach her well.

I taught her well. All the information I gave her, she worked hard to memorize. Names and faces were especially important, and so were what people had done. I was proud of myself. In particular, because both of us had led sheltered lives. Rich, pretty-never the kind of girl you would think something bad might happen to. The same type of girl as Hanna Marin, before her best friend tried to kill her.

We made a good team. Admittedly, she wasn't doing this for the same reason as I was. I was out for revenge, and she was out to appease me. What better way to do that, than have someone carry out all my dirty work? Teaming up like this meant I didn't have to do a whole lot. She did a lot of what I said and mostly without question.

I wasn't holding a grudge as such, but I wanted my payback for everything that had gone on in recent years. She agreed that I deserved to have some form of compensation, and was willing to give it to me. In a way, she owed a debt to me. It couldn't be paid back with the promise of new clothes or any material possessions. I wanted something deeper to return what I'd lost. Now, I was getting it.

Mentoring A gave me something to do, other than orchestrate what she would be doing next. It helped me keep a clear head, and not get angry with her. I couldn't risk getting mad at her. She was doing me a huge favour and I couldn't afford to lose that. If she quit, I probably wouldn't be able to pick up the slack. I could try, but the stress of adapting to everything meant huge risks-I could slip up. And if that happened, A would just be a joke.

I have to watch myself all the time when I'm around anyone. Especially A, because I don't want to slip and lose my temper at her.

Truthfully, I'm somewhat worried that I can't handle my temper all the time.

Recently I've created a ritual of writing down all my feelings and thoughts on paper, then burning the evidence. It helps some, but doesn't completely ease the frustration I sometimes feel.

Frustration, because I have to rely on someone to do everything for me. In theory, it's great. But in practise, not so much. Every time A tells me of the latest thing she's done or shows me the latest text she's about to send, I get jealous. I want that for myself. I want to know how it feels to have something to do that seems impossible and try to do it-and succeed. I want to know if there is any kind of adrenaline once something's been done-like what happened in Hanna's room while she slept. Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting on the sidelines, cheering A on and telling what to do.

While I may be lost without her, I think it goes both ways. Without my knowledge and guidance, she would be lost without me. It's knowing that which keeps me sane. That knowledge helps me keep my temper in check when I need to tell her something vital or when I'm creating some scheme that she'll go along with, not asking any questions.

So while I'm the mastermind behind what we're doing, A is the one doing all the work.

Some might think I would regret what happened all those years ago but I don't. After all, that has ultimately led to this. And after looking at such things compared with all that time gone, I have a new sense of perspective on everything.

But perspective or not, it all leads up to the one thing I've wanted for years: revenge.

APOV

Aria was definitely shaken by what had happened in her family. Mom and Dad were broken up, her brother would soon hate her and she was basically homeless. She'd better hope she and Sean don't break up any time soon.

Now on to Emily. I'd kept quiet as far as my work had gone. My mentor had suggested I should go relatively easy on her. I wasn't sure why, but so far I was. I really ought to do something else-after all, going so easy on her was quickly getting boring. I didn't want her to get complacent from lack of A. I would definitely have to figure out something I could do to remind her of me.

Did I want the girls to try and figure out who I am, I wondered. It was tempting, the idea of watching them scramble around to try and catch me out. Of course, they never would.

No, it was better to just focus on the task.

Now, back to working out what I could do for Emily. Since her parents didn't know about her girlfriend, I definitely had ammunition. I just had to use it wisely.

I turned to my computer and opened up the file named Emily. I scanned through the pages slowly, looking for something that would tell me how people would react to Emily's relationship being made public.

Several notes caught my eye.

_Swim team. Parents very strict, attend church. Often competes at swim meets._

Perfect. It was almost too obvious. Now to give Emily an ultimatum. Since she clung to the idea that Alison was still alive, she should be encouraged to start digging up information about what happened that night. Of course, I would later encourage the other girls to do the same.

My idea was exactly right, and now I just had to start encouraging Emily. And if she didn't comply, she might find herself being outed to the entire school. Her swim meets were so public, after all. I doubt she would want that.

My mentor appeared-she always seemed to sense when I was about to do something-and looked at me curiously.

'Now that we've established A's power with Hanna and Aria, and started getting Spencer more uptight, I think we should start on Emily. I think she should start digging for information on what happened, don't you?' I asked.

'Yes, you're right. We want people to get to the truth. I don't want the girls to just be a bit scared of everything that's going on. I want them to actually do something' my mentor stated. I knew her well enough to know that when she wanted something done, it was done.

I picked up my A phone and powered it up, tapping my nails against the desk while I waited. How should I put this?

'Keep it simple' she advised.

_Hi Emily! I know you still stick to your little belief that Alison is alive. Since you're so hell-bent on the 'truth' why don't you try to work out what happened that night in June? I know it won't be easy, but don't you love a challenge? -A_

My mentor smiled and I jabbed the Send button.

'I wonder how long it is before anyone reaches the truth about what really happened that night' I mused, thinking of how the truth had remained hidden for three long years.

'Knowing them, it could take a while. Too busy running around doing things they shouldn't' my mentor answered.

True. That would slow them down. Assuming, of course, they cared enough to try to get to the truth.

My mentor and I were always inordinately careful to never slip up. Of course, A knows all. Now, we think it's time the rest of Rosewood knew what had happened on that night.

Only, we don't want to tell everyone outright what happened. We want people-four girls in particular-to try and work out what happened. Telling people would be too easy-we didn't want people to just understand, after three years of not knowing. Where was the fairness in that?

My mentor especially didn't want to just tell the truth. The theories that had been crafted over the years, all the speculations of what happened that night annoyed her. So did the 'Ali Fans' who created the shrine. Just because she was the most popular girl in Rosewood, people seemed to think they knew her. That was one of the things that really irritated my mentor. I knew that to be another of the reasons she was out for revenge with our scheme.

If anyone had stopped to think, or tried to talk to Alison's parents, they might have uncovered the truth.

Then, it would be far less fun for my mentor and me. By now, we'd gotten to be good at manipulating people-me in particular. I was A, after all. Manipulation was practically in my job description.

Besides that, we knew the truth would shock many people. It's probably safe to say a good part of America has at least heard of Alison DiLaurentis. A smaller group of those people would have vague knowledge of what happened to her-she was a pretty, rich girl who went missing. An even smaller group of people would know in deeper detail that she went missing and was never found.

Really, it seems that the more people who know about what happened, the less who have real knowledge of that.

Only, no one knows everything. Except for A.

Because let's face it, A knows everything.

Emily POV

I reread the latest note from A in disbelief. She wanted me to start finding out what had happened to Ali. How exactly was I supposed to do that? I mean, the Rosewood police hadn't been able to find out. And they're trained to find murderers and murder victims. I'm not.

I considered writing back to A, asking how I was supposed to do anything. Then again, she always seemed to know what I was going to do before I did it.

Maybe if I waited a while, she would tell me where I should start looking. Maybe what had happened wasn't the truth.

I still believe that somewhere, Ali is alive. I know everyone else thinks I'm wrong and that it's illogical. Even though they found the body, I don't believe it was her body. It was someone else. After all, they found a body, but never really ran DNA tests. I think the only reason they decided it was Ali was because of the ring on her finger. But anyone could have worn a ring.

A little while later, I got a message from A. _Not sure where to start looking for Ali's murderer? Try looking at your old photos. They hold a major clue. -A_

Well, that was helpful. I had a billion photos of me with Ali, the others with Ali and me or just Ali separately. What could any of these photos tell?

Even so, I pulled my photos off the board by my mirror and began flipping through. Half of them had the date and place written on the back, with a brief description of who was in the picture and what was happening.

Still, none of the photos showed any big clues about what had happened. I didn't see any clues in them.

Either A knew everything and was just trying to throw me off the track, or she knew nothing and was bluffing.

APOV

My mentor suggested that Emily not be the only one to start looking. She didn't want to run the risk of Emily coming up with nothing and going to the police.

I'd directed Emily to look at her old photos for a clue as to what happened. I knew that they wouldn't tell much. Really, they were a diversion more than anything. Analyzing pictures would keep her occupied long enough for me to tell the others to start searching too.

I would have been surprised if Emily had found anything out from looking at her little pictures. Generally, Ali was in nearly all the pictures. Sometimes it was the two of them, or all five of them. Some were just Ali, which I found weird. Okay, so Emily worshipped the ground Ali walked on. Did she really need a picture of Ali sleeping?

This would be tricky. I needed my mentor for this. I needed to be able to tell the girls where to start looking without giving too much away.

Unfortunately, for me, she wasn't around. She was doing some kind of research that would help me give the girls clues about what had happened, but that meant she couldn't help me right away.

Maybe I could guide Hanna to try and remember the times she spent at Ali's house and recall if anything odd had happened.

Spencer could use her analytical mind to work out what it meant when Ali was spaced-out and distracted.

Aria could go through all her videos again and see they had any clues. That girl had been so obsessed with filming even the most mundane things. Maybe there would be something in one of them.

My mentor would monitor them and keep an eye on their progress. Given their habits-and in Spencer's case, extracurriculars-that progress would not be overly fast. That would give us time to form plans, calculate ahead and anticipate their next moves.

And I would frame someone to divert the girls and make sure they didn't get to the truth too easily.

As far as plans went, this one was decent. It was still rough and needed shaping, but it would work. My mentor and I would make sure of that.

So… now my question was, who to frame?

I texted my mentor to ask her opinion. A few minutes later, I had my reply. And that idea worked perfectly.

Pin it all on the old A. The one who had set up A and paved the way for me. The one who Spencer killed. She was dead, and therefore wouldn't be defending herself any time soon. But she had helped me immensely. In starting the A notes, she had already done a good chunk of my work for me. Spencer was undoubtedly feeling some guilt for her death. Hanna would be feeling betrayed-after all they had been best friends. Emily would probably have felt bad that Mona had died, and Aria was probably relieved but shaken.

I wondered idly how Spencer felt, knowing she had caused the old A's death. I also wanted to know how she didn't get charged with manslaughter. At any rate, it was something else I could use-a note mentioning that she'd been responsible for Mona's death. Might prey on her conscience and upset her further.

It was time to start planting the idea in four girls' heads that the old A had killed Alison. To begin with, it would look logical.

After all, she had been blonde, which fit in with Spencer's memory of seeing two blondes in the woods that night. She'd probably secretly hated Alison too. Alison taunted her on more than one occasion and often made her feel like nothing.

Even A needs a journal. I found Mona's and read it. She was exceptionally smart. Not to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn't smart enough to burn the journal, and destroy the evidence. Then again, I was glad she hadn't. She'd recorded much of what she'd done-the notes sent, and the actions she'd made. It was convenient-it meant I didn't have to worry about repeating everything she'd done.

But anyway. It would also be logical because Mona probably wanted Alison dead. Not to mention what happened with The Jenna Thing. Then, of course, there was the way Mona disliked the girls for being so selfish and bitchy. She would've wanted her revenge on them, and what better way to do that than kill their best friend?

Mona had also lived conveniently nearby to Alison's house-just a few steps down the road from Spencer, and Spencer had lived next door to Alison. Who was to say she hadn't been the one spying at the barn window, watching and waiting for Ali to go storming from the barn? She could've easily been the one to follow Ali and kill her. And living so close, she would've seen the construction workers, digging and working on Ali's backyard. Probably, she would've known of the hole in the yard too, that was going to be used to create the fancy gazebo.

All this would keep the truth from the girls while my mentor and I worked out our next steps.

We were the only ones who knew about Mona being A before she died, while she was slowly making the girls go crazy. We managed to contact her and correspond with her for a while. She wasn't easily convinced that I would be the next A if anything happened-that was good, as she wasn't too trusting. In the end, my mentor stepped in to persuade her, and she relented. She promised to leave the journal buried in the forest, protected by layers of plastic bags.

After her death, I dug up the journal and read it. It was better than the latest book on the New York Times bestseller's list, and told me everything I needed or wanted to know.

It was good that my mentor had had the foresight to ask for the journal, knowing there was always a possibility that Mona might die somehow and leave her job unfinished.

Once I'd studied the contents of her journal, I stepped in to fill her shoes.

Finally, I was doing something that would please my mentor.

**So **there's the end of another chapter. Hope you liked it.

Please review J


	11. Chapter 11

_Previously: A was reflecting on what Mona-as-A had done, and how she would set her up as the killer. She wanted the girls to start searching for the truth, but was going to divert them so they didn't find the truth too easily._

**A/N: Some of the stuff I mention in the coming chapters will be stuff you may have already read, but please bear with me-it's necessary so I can build up to my version of events.**

**Chapter 11**

Emily POV

Start searching for the killer. Well, I'd combed through all my old photos to try and find out what had happened. So far, there were no clues. Maybe the old notes I'd passed to Ali, or the notes she'd passed to me in class, would tell me something.

The notes filled me with nostalgia. Reading them again was typically something I only did on a rainy day, because they brought back so many memories. Memories of Ali, alive and beautiful. It was still hard to accept that she was dead. Even so, it had only been a couple of months since I couldn't get over things that quickly, and I doubted the others could too.

Regardless, I had to do what A said to do. I didn't want to anger her and run the risk of her outing me to the entire school. No doubt she knew I was on the swim team-she would easily be able to find out when and where the meets were being held if she was so inclined.

With no clues in front of me, I decided to go through all the photos again, looking closer to see if there was something I'd missed. After another hour, there was nothing. I was none the wiser.

Going to put them away, a slip of paper-stiff and glossy, like a photo-fell from the shelf in my wardrobe. If I didn't know better, I'd think it had been rigged to fall just as I was putting things away.

I picked it up, noting the frayed edges and faded colours-as if the photo had been bleached, then sat under the sun for a long time. The date was near illegible, and I could only just make it out. The night of the sleepover at the end of seventh grade. That still didn't tell me anything. Unless, of course, I was supposed to take it as confirmation of _when_ Ali had gone missing.

I threw the photo on my desk and sighed. My photos had revealed nothing-A must have just told me to look at them as a distraction. Probably she knew they would reveal nothing, leaving me frustrated and upset.

If that was the case, it had worked.

APOV

While Emily was looking through all her old photos, I went through some photos of my own. My mentor and I had collected photos from sixth and seventh grades. It hadn't been hard. The photos had just been lying in boxes, fading more and reflecting not much more than memories, outside the DiLaurentis' old home. Once we were in Rosewood and saw the boxes, we took the opportunity.

Now, I sifted through, looking for the ones that I could take to Emily. They would provide a further distraction.

Seven photos really stood out as useful diversions. I selected them and wrote in plain handwriting on the back a question or note to Emily that would get her thinking about the photo. At the least, trying to think more.

Delivering them to her house would be a risky move in broad daylight, so it would have to be a night task.

My mentor appeared, pulling out a few pieces of paper.

'When I left each of their houses, this is what they were doing. I'm assuming you sent them each a message explaining what you wanted done?' she asked.

I nodded and reached my hand out for the papers. On each were scrawled brief notes. _Emily: poring over old photos from sixth grade. Aria: watching old films on her laptop. Spencer: appeared to be doing some kind of homework or flow chart. Hanna: painting her nails and not really seeming to think about anything._

I flipped the papers into the fireplace and lit them, then turned back to my mentor, who was watching the paper burn approvingly.

Trust Spencer to create a flow chart. Probably some method of trying to recall the events of that night. A timeline might be better… then again, it might not. My mentor had been annoyed by the re-enactment on TV a while ago-the one that showed the media interpretation of what had happened. Like they knew anything.

Good on Emily and Aria though. Trying faithfully to work out what had happened.

I was surprised at Hanna though. After what I had done to her room-surely, she would have learned a lesson. Namely, _don't ignore A. _Maybe I would have to teach her another lesson. I suggested this to my mentor, who looked thoughtful.

'You're right. After you trashed her room, she was shaken for a while but then seemed to relax. Even the paper plane note didn't seem to upset her much. I don't want it getting to be that A has less power over her' my mentor decided.

'What should I do next? Something on a similar scale to what I did the other week? Or just send her a note reminding her what I could do if she doesn't comply? I know something she doesn't want the school to know' I considered, stretching the last few words into a singsong tone.

'What do you know?' my mentor asked, barely hiding her curiosity.

'When she's feeling really down on herself, she binges on junk food and then… _purges_ herself of it. If the entire school knew that, she would lose her Queen Bee ranking pretty damned fast.'

My mentor's eyes glittered. I knew one of the things she loved about this was finding out something she previously hadn't. New information, to A-or her mentor, was like giving a toy to a child. A sparkly, shiny, new toy. I'd specifically kept this from her for a while, letting her wonder what could be Hanna's secret.

Now she knew.

'I think I could use the same tactic to motivate her as I used on Emily. Reveal her secret very publicly-such as, at one of the swim meets-or do as I say. It should work. If nothing else, it would mean that I'm not messing around.'

She smiled. This kind of strategizing was our favourite, and she enjoyed it. The best part of it all was the potential to do something-get some bold marker pens and paper, create a flyer spelling everything out and then photocopy it a thousand times. Distribute the flyers around school and watch.

The potential to do such an action was exhilarating. And of course, once the fall out had settled there was the realization that someone was in control. Typically, that someone was A. Aria had already learned that firsthand, and I thought Hanna had… but maybe Hanna was stupid enough that she hadn't actually learnt much. Too many cosmetics cluttering up her brain and makeup lessons replacing the important life lessons she needed to know.

Well, I'd just have to rectify that somehow. I only needed to work out how.

HPOV

I knew I should be trying to find out what had happened that night. A had told me to-yet I didn't know what to do. Where did I start looking? Or did I start by talking to people, like her family? When I'd spoken to Emily, she said A had told her to start going through the old photos she had. And that the photos turned up nothing.

While I tried to figure out what I should do, I painted my nails and thought it all over. So far though, I was coming up with nothing. It was making me nervous. It would be just my luck if A happened to be watching and saw me painting my nails. I could only imagine what that would tell A about how I felt towards finding out the truth.

_Doesn't seem to care-not interested in trying to find out the truth. _

Worse, A was probably working out some kind of 'punishment', or that I needed to be taught a lesson. I'd already been punished enough, although I never did figure out A's motives for trashing my room and things. I mean, obviously she had wanted to punish me for something I had or hadn't done-I just hadn't worked out what it was she was punishing me for. It had been a pain too, replacing all the clothes, books and makeup that had been damaged. So really, I couldn't afford to just sit here and paint my nails. I needed to show A that I was actually doing something.

A had told me to try to recall if anything weird had happened when I was at Ali's house. The one thing that stood out in my memory was when Ali's mom had wanted to yell at her for something-she came downstairs later, wearing a different t-shirt and looking confused. Evidently, she had no idea what it was she'd been yelled at about.

I hastily scribbled that down and then decided to try to work out what it had meant.

Maybe that Ali had just felt like getting changed. Or that she got something on her top and had to put it in the wash.

It was possible that she'd been pretending not to remember, so she didn't have to tell us. Honesty was weird with us-we were all honest when telling Alison about our secrets, but lied to the others. Only Ali had had any clue about how I used to purge myself of food.

Really, I was surprised A hadn't made any mention of it to me. Unless it was some kind of power thing-I wasn't supposed to know that she knew, until she decided to tell me that she knew.

There weren't many other things that stood out in my memory. Before we were friends, there was the time when I went to steal her flag for the Time Capsule game. I'd not been the only one there-Spencer, Aria and Emily had all arrived there at the same time. The weird thing about this was, Ali came out and greeted us. She made small talk briefly with us, before going back inside.

I didn't know exactly how she treated the others, but she taunted me about my weight. I was sure that she and her posse had made fun of Emily for having green-ish hair from swimming, and that they would have taunted Aria for being outright weird. Spencer, she probably had the most respect for.

So, what had changed her mind? Why had she spoken to us that day? Then, later, she chose us to be her new best friends. We did almost everything together. We ruled the school, until she went missing. That was something else that was a puzzle-_why _she had chosen us to be her best friends. Rumours swirled that she, Naomi and Riley had had a huge fight, but she never said what it was about. Was it because she didn't know what the fight was about, or she just really didn't want to tell us? Maybe she hadn't wanted to tell us because it was something really bad, and she didn't want it getting all around the school.

Something about all this made me think I should talk to the others, to see what A had told them to do, to see if maybe we could somehow piece everything together.

SPOV

A had told me that I should try and work out what it meant when Ali was distracted or spacey. Really, I didn't want to try and figure any of it out. Ali was complicated-she could've been thinking about anything.

Regardless, I had to. The airplane note she'd sent the other day in the library had held a message for Hanna, warning her of something. I didn't know everything, but I'd guess that A had done something to punish Hanna. I really didn't want to be the next on A's list, just because I hadn't looked hard enough.

So, to start at the beginning. When we'd all shown up in the backyard to steal her flag, she'd appeared to not recognize us-even though we all went to school together.

I hadn't expected her to know all of us-the only reason she knew me was because we lived next door. But maybe that unfamiliarity had a deeper meaning.

Maybe, for some reason, she legitimately hadn't known who we were.

Amnesia was a small possibility, but unlikely. She had managed to remember my seventh-grade secret, and probably the other three had secrets.

Unless, of course, she just had them written down and occasionally reviewed them as a reminder of who did what.

During seventh grade, she seemed to space out more often. Not long before she went missing, she often went out of town. She said it was to visit relatives or spend time with her parents.

It seemed that at that particular time, she was spending a lot of time visiting family. That was strange, because in sixth grade, she hadn't been spending that much time with her family. Her brother was often away though-that could have had something to do with her absences.

As for who had possibly killed her, that was almost impossible to discern. It couldn't have been any of our classmates, because probably none of us was strong enough-physically or mentally-to do it. Besides, if anyone had done it and then confessed, they probably would have been sent away and suspected of making it up for attention.

Some people disliked Ali, but probably not enough to kill her. I was certain that for the people who didn't like her, expressing that ran to saying that she was a bitch, or wishing she would somehow stop being so damned perfect.

Many people were jealous of her. I was jealous. So were most of our sixth and seventh grade classes, along with the older classes and possibly half the rest of the people in Rosewood.

There was a possibility that Ian might have some knowledge of what had happened that night. He had apparently, been secretly dating Alison up until when she disappeared. I would have to talk to him sometime and see if he could tell me something I didn't know.

Everyone adored her too. She was smart, pretty, and fun to be around.

So trying to figure her out three years on, or who killed her, was proving to be somewhat impossible.

Mentor POV

I was focused on my planning. I knew Spencer was doing something to figure out what had happened, as were Emily and Hanna. I'd checked in on Hanna not long ago, and from what I could see, she was scribbling on a scrap of paper about Ali.

Aria was not doing much, but for now, A and I had to leave her alone. Other things demanded our attention.

Ian Thomas, for instance. He'd dated Melissa in high school. We weren't sure what Melissa knew, but we knew Ian was beginning to suspect something. If Melissa had confirmed it, he knew too much.

I'd sent a to check on Ian and then Melissa. When she arrived at Ian's house, she texted me to say they were there together.

That was good-it made her job easier. She now just had to listen to see what Ian knew, report back to me and then we would decide on our course of action.

While I waited, I wrote out a few basic next steps for myself. A would be going by these guidelines too-we had to be sure we were on the same page at all times.

Soon enough, A returned. She settled in and took out the iPod she used for recording such things.

'They both know too much. Melissa confirmed today what Ian had suspected all along.' A said, summarizing what she would have recorded just now.

I raised my eyebrows in thought. Interesting. Ian was now a threat to myself and A, since he knew what we knew.

'We can't allow him to stay. He knows too much and poses too big a risk. If he tells, some people will discount it as lies, but others will believe him. Melissa could back him up,' I mused.

I gave it a few more minutes of thought. A watched me patiently, waiting for my decision.

I made the decision that Ian had to go. Melissa would take it as a warning, while if she went; Ian could well take it as the initiative to tell everyone in Rosewood what happened.

A seemed to be losing patience.

'We'll have to work together on this one' I decided finally.

This would be more difficult than all of our other tasks, but it would work. It would be worth it too, to keep the secret until we were ready.

**A/N: I'd really like more reviews. Towards the end of December 2010, this story had about 560 hits, and only a couple of reviews. I'm grateful for the reviews I have received, as I like to know people are reading my story. I'm not going to hold the next chapter hostage until I get X number of reviews, but this storyline is going to get more complex, and I'd like feedback. **

**If you want to see someone killed off, or you notice a plot hole, or require clarification, or have an idea for the next chapters-or anything, really, please tell me in a review. I want to know what you think should happen **

**I know I haven't updated much lately, but that's because I'm lacking a bit in inspiration to write something. **

**Also: thank you, Nicole, for the awesome review, it made me smile. **

**Lastly: Ian is not a suspect in this, as he is in the books. So, he is not in prison and he does know something-what? Anyway, that's why Ian is free and able to talk to Melissa, etc…**

**I hope to get the next chapter up soon ****J**


	12. Chapter 12

**Just a reminder: I own nothing but the storyline. And the plot that is beginning to confuse me slightly. Sorry for any confusion. I got confused when uploading and had to change all the chapter numbers and all that. I also removed Hanna's POV and the intro so I could put up the last chapter. Or something.**

**Chapter 12**

APOV

I knew that whatever my mentor had to say was going to be interesting. Possibly, something that was outside of the range of what I'd done so far.

'I think we need to kill Ian, before he becomes more of a risk,' she stated decisively.

Kill him. Wow. That was one hell of a lot more than I'd ever had to do so far as A.

So far, all I'd done was play a couple of little pranks, send a few texts, and spy on a few people. But I'd never killed anyone.

Of course, it had crossed my mind that it might be a possibility, but I hadn't thought it would be yet.

The odd thing was I was looking forward to it. Somehow, I thought it would be something good for A to do.

My mentor would help, too-that would be good.

Instinctively-after so long of being A, it came naturally-I reached for and opened the folder to where there was a slim sheaf of paper with the front marked 'Ian Thomas'.

We huddled over the papers, scanning through for something useful.

_Assistant coach of the girls__'__ field hockey team. _Pervert.

It would work. He drove to and from the field hockey field, and parked his car some distance away. It would't be hard to puncture a few tyres, then offer him a lift-leading him in the opposite direction, before silencing him.

Then, one of us would run to the car, which we would have parked an inconspicuous distance away, and deal with the body.

It was almost exciting. My mentor seemed to think so too-her eyes glowed as she read my idle doodles-made to look just like the plan I was formulating.

Tomorrow, after school, would be the best time we could deal with it.

She grabbed the pen and began to draw slowly, a random bunch of lines that didn't make sense. When she lifted her hand off the paper, I understood the lines-they created an old-fashioned wishing well, with some small flames sparking around the edges of the well. All we needed was for the well to be completely dry-a tarpaulin might help with that in case of rainfall.

It was a plan that would work well, as long as we stayed hidden. That shouldn't be hard: there was a forest not far away, and both of us were fit enough to run from one to the other. Binoculars would be necessary: we were only human after all, and therefore only had human eyesight.

All that we needed now was strategy. We couldn't very well pull Ian away from the end of hockey practise; kill him in broad daylight, then go dragging the body to dispose of it. We might as well put up fliers with our pictures and the headline 'We killed Ian Thomas'. There was sure to be a witness if we tried anything during the day.

Suddenly the thought occurred to me. We could take a bottle of water to him, and spike the water that he would be drinking. After practise, he'd no doubt be thirsty. He probably wouldn't question either of us for playing water-girl. It shouldn't be hard to find a drug that would knock someone unconscious for several hours. Long enough that we could drag him to the place at 2 a.m., kill him and then deal with the body. It would be especially helpful if he were still unconscious when we moved to kill him, as it meant we wouldn't have to worry about him trying to struggle or scream out.

Now, I just had to find the drugs that would help us.

Mentor POV

I could tell A was scheming for the best ways to kill someone. She had the look on her face that said she was strategizing. As she planned, she doodled slowly on the paper in front of her.

I watched the images forming under her hand. Some made sense, others didn't. One was a water bottle. Was she planning to poison his water? Replace it with some mixture of water and turpentine, combined with something that would take away the taste?

Finally, _finally_, she laid down the pencil and folded the paper before burning it. My curiosity was starting to increase quickly, desperate to know what she had in mind.

'I'm thinking we visit him after hockey practise, and offer him a bottle of water-drugged, of course. He drinks it, and is knocked unconscious. He'll then be unconscious long enough for us to get him into the car and hide him until the magic hour, 2a.m., when we can take him-still unconscious-to the wishing well and put him to sleep forever'. A had definitely thought this through. Even I was impressed.

I was also pleased that she didn't just plan to have him drink some poison. He deserved a more dignified death. Granted, there wasn't much dignified about being killed by someone much smaller than yourself, but at least his death would remain a mystery.

After all, Rosewood deserved to try solving one old mystery and one new one.

With that, I began to make plans to be sure that in no way could anyone suspect us of his death.

APOV

My mentor was making plans, I could tell. As she did, I powered up my computer and ran my routine online check. This was becoming more frequent: we had always had to be sure that no-one suspected or knew of A, other than four girls in particular. And if A was in the news somewhere, we had to deal with it appropriately. As always, there was nothing.

Deal with the people who had placed the article, any sources who had been quoted in the article, and then try to release something countering it. Since neither of us were newspaper reporters, we mainly used anonymous opinion pieces. Even if we didn't get them published, it was still a way to express an opinion. As well as that, we knew most people couldn't resist gossiping. One person who read it might mention it to someone else, and it could spread around the town.

Often, when such a thing happened, it changed ever so slightly. The original changed from person to person as different people added their opinions, or tried to figure something out using logic. It was all just another way to keep people off the track and divert them.

As the afternoon bled into evening, which passed over into night, we planned further. By midnight, we'd shaped the plan into something perfect.

Luckily for us, Mona had not named Ian as a suspect. He was still free and was often seen around. That just made it easier.

SPOV

I woke around 1a.m., feeling oddly unsettled. I had a strange feeling of foreboding, as if something was going to happen soon.

Maybe A was going to do something that would wreck Hanna's reputation, or mine. So far, A had targeted Emily and Aria-because of her, Aria had been homeless until moving in with her dad, and Emily had been sent to Iowa before running away.

I'd done my best to try figuring out what A had told me to, but it hadn't been easy. I'd been worried that A would see what I was doing, and try to punish me for it. That somehow, what I was doing wasn't enough.

So I'd tried to compensate for it by writing it all out. Some pages just had a few words; others had whole paragraphs.

Probably I was overcompensating, but it settled me slightly to do some more than I'd been told to.

It struck me as strange, that I was sitting up even later bent over my desk, trying to figure out something with limited information. It was also strange that I was hoping to please someone I didn't know-not knowing who A was strange.

I attempted to satisfy myself with the notion that A was just planning something. A was probably bored just ordering myself and the others around, and wanted to do something major.

Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn't affect me. There was the time the old A had tried to kill me, and I'd wound up killing her in self-defence. Although I hadn't been charged with her death, I still felt bad about it at times. I'd never intended to kill her-yet, she was dead.

I wanted to talk to Ian after hockey practise. Mainly, I wanted to find out what had happened between him and Alison when we were in seventh grade.

Somehow, I figured that he might know something I didn't. Maybe Ali had told him something that she wouldn't have told us-maybe there was something that she desperately needed to tell someone, but at the same time wanted to keep as secret as possible.

I still thought that she kept our secrets as a way to have power, to be able to lord them over us. If she had told any of us her secret, whatever it may have been, she lost that delicate balance of power. She knew a secret of ours, but then one of us also knew one of hers, and we could hold it over her if we wanted to. Not that any of us would have dared-well, I might have. I wasn't sure about the others.

When I did manage to get to sleep, I dreamed of Ali. She was holding what appeared to be a remote control, with many buttons.

Mentor POV

That night, I couldn't sleep. During the day, I couldn't focus on anything. My thoughts were on one topic only.

I channelled my excess energy into refining the plan, then rewriting it in times. By the time I had finished refining everything, I had it all written out to the minute.

I was tempted to take the plan to A and suggest we follow it with military precision. I had to resist though, I didn't want to anger her, and risk her willingness to do this.

Finally, the school day ended. I headed for home, while A took a detour: ostensibly jogging along the route that would take her directly past the hockey fields. It was necessary to check that Ian was there, or the plan wouldn't work.

A texted me once on her way home, confirming that Ian was indeed there.

I got my supplies together carefully and quickly, and then prepared a bottle of water with the necessary drugs that would knock Ian out. I'd had to do some research, which made me nervous: I was slightly concerned that someone might find out and think it unusual.

Once the water was ready, I slipped it into my bag with other supplies: a knife, a crowbar, some methylated spirits, a pack of matches and two backup knives, wrapped carefully in newspaper.

I texted A to let her know that everything was ready to go: I had all the supplies I needed.

Her reply came back almost immediately: she too, was ready and waiting, hiding in the woods. More accurately, she had climbed into the thickest part of a tree and was there with binoculars.

She would be waiting for me and alert me to which tree she was in with a signal: she would drop a small branch to the ground.

I grabbed my heavy black hoodie and slipped it on, before retying my shoes and swapping my skirt for jeans, then slipped a pair of sunglasses into my pocket. Once I was anywhere near the field, I would need them to obscure as much of my face as possible.

Finally, I was out the door. I made sure to walk at a leisurely pace, as though I had all the time in the world. As I began to approach the field, I bent down as if to tie my shoelace, then slipped on my sunglasses. I scanned the trees and observed a small branch dropping to the ground.

With the branch, I saw the flutter of a red ribbon.

I skirted around behind the field, where as few people as possible would see me, and sped into the forest.

Above me, I heard a soft cough and saw another scrap of red ribbon drift to the ground. Good, it was now clear that A was there. I picked up the ribbon and quickly climbed the tree, sitting next to her.

'Ian has been there the whole time', she murmured, 'and Spencer seems quite on edge. Luckily Melissa is not here today, watching her boyfriend coach.' She drew the last words out in a slightly higher-pitched voice, and I laughed silently. A never had liked Melissa much. Melissa was too much of a mommy's girl.

I handed over the backpack. A rifled through and dug out a pair of heavy-duty gloves and the knife, securing it carefully inside her boot. She passed me the binoculars and slipped slowly down the tree, cautious not to dislodge the knife and have it end up in her foot.

I suspected that even if she had wound up with the knife in her foot, she would have just pulled it out and wiped off the blood.

I watched as she wandered lazily to the car park, looking for all the world as if she had just been for a long hike through the woods and was headed to the parking lot to be picked up.

APOV

Once I reached the car park, I headed straight for Ian's car. There was absolutely no one around, and I knelt down, carefully sliding the knife into three of the four tyres. One perfect, clean puncture wound in each, and my work was done. I watched as the air drained out of each tyre with a soft hiss, and returned to the woods.

I darted up the tree, rejoining my mentor, and she caught me up on what had happened since I'd been gone. Not a lot, as it happened.

We passed the binoculars between us until the practise ended, and watched as Ian started to leave the field. My mentor jumped from the tree; I joined her and we walked a few yards behind Ian, forced to walk very slowly to stay behind him at his ambling pace.

It felt like we'd been walking forever when we finally reached the car park. I ran to the car, and waited on the passenger side as my mentor pretended to search for her keys.

Just then, we heard cursing.

My mentor turned, fake concerned, to find Ian Thomas complaining about his slashed tyres.

'Can we give you a ride somewhere?' I offered him, keeping my voice even and light.

He looked immensely grateful, and came over to the car; I went around to the backseat, to give the illusion of offering the passenger seat out of politeness.

Ha.

We all got in, and I dug around for the bottle of water that was still completely full. This part had better work.

My mentor glanced back at me, pretending she wanted to know if I was ready to get going. I held the bottle of water up and pointed to Ian, and she lifted both eyebrows ever so slightly.

Better to wait until he makes a mention of his thirst, than offer out of the blue. It seemed odd to offer right out.

She started the car and began telling Ian about the hike we took earlier today. Technically, it could have been true. We had been the other day in preparation for today, memorizing interesting things and taking photos.

Ian seemed genuinely interested and mentioned that he'd just spent the afternoon coaching field hockey, as he did nowadays.

Eventually, he complained of being thirsty and gave me the perfect cue.

'We still have some water packed for our hike' I offered. 'We deliberately take too much because we never know how long we'll be or how far we're going. It's always better to have too much than not enough, right?'

Ian accepted the water gratefully and drained half the bottle at once. According to the research, it wouldn't take long to kick in. The dose we had fixed was perfect for someone of his height and weight-based on our estimates anyway-and soon enough, he started yawning.

My mentor suggested it was just a combination of warmth: it was still warm, and exercising, which was tiring.

Soon after, he was asleep. The drugs would wear off in about twelve hours: we had roughly eight hours, and a crowbar if it was necessary.

We pulled over to the secluded side of the road and between us, transferred the unconscious Ian to the boot. I took the passenger seat on getting back in and left.

Mentor POV

Once at home I dug a hole under the flower bushes and buried the first knife in there. It was so thoroughly buried that it would probably never be excavated, and if it ever was, it would be well rusted and thick with dirt by then.

I went through the routine of dinner and pretending to do my homework with A. Towards ten p.m.; we both quit the homework façade and settled in to wait until two a.m.

The time moved sluggishly as we waited, talking quietly, pretending to read, browsing online.

Finally, the clock ticked over to 2:00A.M. and we both slipped out the door.

It wasn't hard to get the car out of the street quietly, before driving to the place.

Once there, we dragged the still unconscious Ian to the wishing well and took out a knife. I carefully made a few incisions, knowing from research what areas would bleed the most, before stepping back.

The blood was streaming now, and A stepped in to cut off his air supply by wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck. She pulled on the ends for long enough that eventually, she seemed to be struggling to keep her hold. I signalled to her that she should let go now, and she did.

The blood flow was slowing now, and Ian's face was rapidly turning blue.

I wore rubber gloves, so carefully placed my fingers against his throat to check his heartbeat. It was almost non-existent.

At times like this, I wished there was a vampire around.

We watched each other, careful not to make a sound. She reached into the backpack and lifted out the crowbar, then smacked it against the back of his head twice. Once more and his already slow heartbeat began to fade away even more under my fingers.

At last, his heartbeat stopped altogether. I held my fingers in place a little longer, trading off with A for another forty minutes.

We were satisfied that he would never wake up, and began the cleanup. It was the magic hour-three A.M., and most people would be in the deepest stage of REM sleep. They were too close to being corpses. As far as every day life went, that was the closest to dead people would get, until the actual death.

I lifted the body over the edge of the well, and A shone a torch on it. I poured on the methylated spirits, emptying the bottle. A dropped a lit match, then another, and another. She dropped six more matches, and the body blazed up. The fire raged, hungrily consuming the body, fueled by the alcohol in the methylated spirits.

For the second time, I wished there was a vampire around.

We watched as the fire continued its destruction, until finally it burnt out. The body was now unrecognizable, and the crowbar had been a great help-it would make dental records harder to use when the body was found. If it ever was found.

I tossed some leaves that had fallen into the well, until there was a layer of them covering the body. Chances were someone might be out here smoking sometime soon. The leaves would dry up and that someone might be inclined to toss the cigarette over into the well.

It could be arranged. It would only be a small fire, but it would help. Except, of course, it would have to be re-covered over again.

Even so, it would be easy to conceal.

By now we'd finished cleaning up, careful not to leave any blood around the area, and were ready to go. As an afterthought, I dropped the empty bottle in, with another lit match following it. More flames flared up instantly and they licked at the body. We gathered more leaves to cover over the area while the fire burnt; piling them in once the fire had died out.

Both of us were eventually content with our work. After checking over the area one last time, we took off.

One threat was dealt with. Now we had to assess the next possible threat.

APOV

As we left, I thought about everything. I wondered how long it would take a body to be so completely burnt that it was beyond recognition.

I was happy that we'd managed to get rid of one of our major threats-one of a few people who could have possibly outed us.

I hoped we hadn't left any evidence at all, and made a plan to go back at the first opportunity to check.

I tried to figure out how long it would be, before it hit the news. And, by extension, how long it would take before the press would be interested.

I thought about how it had made my mentor relax some, to have a threat eliminated.

My mentor drove, apparently sensing that I wanted to think about everything. Just as we reached home, the full force of what we'd done hit me, and I nearly burst into laughter. I was giddy with relief and adrenaline coursed through my body. She looked at me with concern, and evaluated me thoughtfully. Parking the car, she turned to me, her eyes serious.

'I think we should stay out of this. We make no mention of it and just let it unfold. That way, we can pretend to be as startled as anyone else in Rosewood is when the news breaks. However it happens, it will probably be breaking news, and it probably will be within the next couple of weeks. We need to move on from it and return to you being A. Once the news breaks, you can ask them why he might have been killed. For now, A makes no mention of it.'

Everything she said made sense, and I quickly agreed. We slipped back inside and hurried to get to sleep.

As I got ready for bed, I thought it all over. I had to wonder, who was next on the list? Was there going to be anyone else?

It frustrated me that I would have to get up in barely three hours. While I was completely devoted to being A and working to appease my mentor, there were downsides.

Lack of sleep was the obvious one, and by far the biggest. By now though, I'd adapted to functioning on two or three hours of sleep in a night, and then getting up at six A.M. Most days, I managed to get up and get something with caffeine on the way to school.

Still, I missed sleeping a whole night, of eight or nine hours. My mentor only got slightly more sleep than I did. I had to do so much sneaking out and following people around, trying to guess at their next move, that I often had to delay homework too.

I promised myself that before we had to take care of our next threat, I would start banking sleep. Otherwise, I might be at risk of becoming a threat, if I had to keep running on so little sleep. I was sure my mentor would agree. It would be particularly helpful if she and I could trade off nights when we had to watch someone. That way, one of us could sleep while the other got vital information.

That then meant that both of us would get a decent amount of rest and not be forever running on caffeine and adrenaline. It wasn't the healthiest thing in the world.

As I started to drift towards sleep, I wondered again how long it would take before the news broke.

**A/N: I'm back at university now, which means better internet access and more likelihood of my updating more. **

**I'd still really like to get reviews. I admit I haven't updated too frequently in the past months, but now I'm only working from what I have in mind, which is a part of why it's taken me a while to update. No reviews=less inspiration=it's harder for me to write something. With this chapter, I got inspired to write about 12 pages at once, but that doesn't always happen.**

**So, please review. Tell me if you like it, or don't, or… well, anything, really. I also welcome ideas.**

**I'm not going to subscribe to the holding a chapter hostage until X number of reviews (did I already say that? Well, if I did, I'll say it again ) but reviews help me write and update faster-whether its suggesting something I can include in the story/chapter, or encouragement.**

**J**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

APOV

The next day at school, we listened carefully for anything about Ian. So far, there was nothing. Of course, he wasn't a high school student, and so the chances that he would be talked about were slim. For now anyway.

It may have been noticed that he hadn't returned home last night, but there probably wouldn't be any suspicions for another few days. That gave me a few more days, until the media broke the news and I could then use it as ammunition against my favourite foursome.

It also depended on who he lived with. If he lived alone, it could be days before he was reported missing.

Days which I could use, or my mentor could use, to further burn the body.

Destroy evidence. We were good at that.

I took a minute to slip a brief note in my mentor's locker, telling her to meet me at lunch in the library. Now that our main threat was dealt with, we had to discuss who the next one would be, and how we were going to deal with them.

During my classes before lunch, I took the opportunity to tune in to my classmates and their conversations: listening to see if anything of any interest was being said.

So far, there was nothing.

While my English teacher droned about something, I took out my cell phone and checked the newspapers online, checking to see if there was anything relevant to me. As with my classmates, there was nothing.

Just as I'd suspected. There probably wouldn't be anything for a few more days. For now though, it was necessary to keep checking.

I sent my mentor a quick text to let her know that online, there wasn't anything. Nor was there anything in what my classmates were talking about.

To keep up the charade, I quickly resumed scribbling notes. I wasn't sure how relevant to the class they were, but I had to act normal. Eventually class ended and I hurried to the library, spreading out my books and pretending to be absorbed with my French text.

My mentor appeared, evidently out of nowhere. She settled in to the seat closest to me, and we began to discuss strategy.

Ian gone meant our biggest threat was gone. Now, we had to work out who our the next one was.

She drew up a small grid and wrote two names heading each column up. Jenna and Melissa.

Jenna knew a few things, and was blinded by Ali back in the sixth grade. There was a chance that if Ian's body was found soon, she might come forward with what she knew.

Melissa knew everything. We knew this because of we knew what she had told Ian. This made her the bigger threat, so we would have to be sure to warn her off telling anyone else what she knew. With his death, and a friendly warning, she should stay quiet.

As for Jenna… one of us would have to check in on her and find out what she knew. Evaluate her as a threat against Melissa. And if it happened that she was the bigger threat, we would have to deal with her accordingly.

I started writing brief notes to use in the letter to Melissa. Of course, I wouldn't be writing the full letter or sending it until the news broke. It was always good to be prepared.

Later, I would have to check in on her too. See what she was doing, if she suspected.

I added them to my notes-M and J.

Once I knew what they were thinking, I would be able to go from there.

SPOV

It had been four days after I'd woken in the middle of the night with that strange feeling that something was about to happen. So far, I hadn't noticed anything out of place. That feeling persisted, getting stronger all the time.

It reminded me of something. The time in seventh grade, just before Ali went missing. One night, I'd woken up from my sleep and had a feeling of something happening soon.

That was what I was feeling again, but stronger.

I didn't doubt that whatever it was that would happen, A would somehow be involved. I hated to think of what would happen.

I also had the nagging feeling that there was something I had to do, but I couldn't work out what it was.

I knew I was completely up to date on my homework, so that obviously wasn't what I needed to do.

Finally, I remembered what it was I'd been intending to do-talk to Ian and see if he could tell me something from when he and Ali were secretly together.

I made a quick note of it and headed to my car.

On the way to my car, I could have sworn I saw a flash of blond hair, and a person in disguise who seemed to be staring directly at me.

Mentor POV

A needed to catch up on her sleep, so I went to pay a little visit to Melissa and see what she knew.

As I walked, I made sure my hair was tightly bound under my hood and my glasses obscured my face, as I had done several times before.

A had already told me that Melissa was staying with her parents at the moment. This would be a good chance to also spend a little time focusing on Spencer. I could catch up on both sisters and, while I was at it, observe the relationship between them nowadays.

I knew full well that they'd never fully got on. Spencer had always viewed Melissa as perfect, and while she was forever trying to catch up to Melissa, Melissa was continuing to achieve. It made sense. Pushy mother, wanted both kids to be perfect.

Of course, Melissa wasn't perfect. I didn't know why Spencer spent so much time trying to catch up to her. Surely it would be better if she just focused on her own achievements.

I reached their house and settled into a comfortable area that was well hidden. Months working with A had honed my skills at being able to find and utilize a good hiding place. Curled up and hidden completely, I listened to everything going on.

Melissa's voice carried to me clearly, and it sounded like she was calling Ian. Again, by the sounds of it. Her tone sounded annoyed and slightly upset, as if she'd been calling him every day for weeks. She said that he '_still_ wasn't picking up'-I assumed she was leaving a voicemail and that he should call her soon.

Oh, it was so tempting to burst her bubble right then.

After I'd heard this, I listened more, tuning Melissa out. From the direction of Spencer's room, I heard typing. Sounded like computer work. Probably another extra-credit essay.

I didn't hear Mr. Hastings, and it occurred to me that he wasn't at home. His car wasn't there either, so he was probably still at work.

Melissa was now talking to her mom about Ian: she was annoyed that he hadn't returned any of her calls. That reminded me that I had his cell phone at home. Next chance I got, I'd have to toss it into a river or nearby ocean. Or just to the bottom of the wishing well.

I was finally happy with the information I'd obtained and raced into the forest, then took the long way around to get back to the streets. Once at home, I quickly dug out Ian's cell phone and left, walking directly to the wishing well.

There, I dropped the cell phone and covered it over with leaves. I recalled the lack of rain all week, and figured the leaves would be dry enough to catch alight if a lit cigarette happened to drop onto one. I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a few shallow inhalations before dropping it to the leaves below. As I'd thought, the leaves were dry enough that a small spark flared up almost instantly. To encourage the fire along, I tossed down another few lit matches and cigarettes, trying to conserve the matches. I'd have to get another pack soon, I was using so many.

At last, the flames caught and burnt well for a good fifteen minutes. As I had done the other night, I gathered leaves to cover it all over. I repeated what I'd done that night and finally walked away, after carefully checking to be sure that no evidence had been left.

There was none, so I went to catch up with A and tell her what I'd learnt from visiting the Hastings house.

APOV

By the time I woke up, I had no idea what time it was. My mentor was sitting on my bed, looking at me approvingly. I knew that now she wanted me to be even more vigilant than I already was.

Looking outside, the sky was dark, so I figured I'd slept the whole afternoon away. I felt guilty, as that was a perfect opportunity to visit Melissa or Jenna.

She must have read the thoughts on my face, because she handed me a notepad with M at the top of the page. I scanned it. Evidently, Melissa had been calling Ian repeatedly. Spencer didn't let on to any suspicions.

Next, she caught me up to what she'd been doing. Again, I felt guilty for sleeping while she ran around doing things I should be doing. I was relieved when she told me she'd stopped by the wishing well and checked for evidence, finding none, and that she'd destroyed the cell phone. She'd also spent some time making sure the body got a little more burnt.

I made plans to visit Jenna the next day and listen in. We were still waiting for someone to get a clue so the media could break the news.

I wasn't looking forward to reading all the headlines. _New development in DiLaurentis saga._ Or whatever they managed to come up with. My mentor wouldn't be either. I didn't doubt that the headlines would irritate her intensely. And I would be the one who heard any of her ranting against it. Not because they upset her, or the people writing the articles were being insensitive, but because none of them knew what really happened. Of course we knew, but we weren't going to just tell people what had happened. Drama was what we were going for, and we wouldn't get that by doing things the easy way.

I checked online and was frustrated by my findings. So far, it hadn't been reported that Ian was missing or anything. It occurred to me that he may have been planning to go away: a holiday perhaps-and so no one would be concerned by his absence. He'd been away from coaching the hockey team for at least two sessions now, which wasn't suspicious. It did, however, suggest any absences were planned and known about.

That was a good thing. It made our job easier. It was also a bad thing: I was getting impatient keeping quiet. That reminded me, A had been almost dormant now. It had been almost five days since we'd dealt to Ian, and I hadn't sent any little notes.

My mentor was now looking thoughtful. She seemed to have picked up on my thoughts. 'I think you should wait until tomorrow to send a note to each of the girls. If you stay quiet too long, they'll get complacent and start to relax. Of course, it wouldn't be entirely a bad thing because they might let their guard down enough to do something stupid, and if you happened to see it… Anyway, just send them a note to make sure they know A is still around. It's been long enough that if any of them did notice Ian's disappearance, you couldn't be in any way implicated' she instructed me.

I ran my fingers over the keypad of my blocked-number cell phone, thinking. Short and simple, letting the girls know A was still here. _Miss me? Don't worry girlies, A is still here. I haven't forgotten about you. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. XO, A._

I saved it under my drafts and tried to decide what to do next. Usually, I wasn't this indecisive, but I wasn't completely sure of what I should do. Did I fire off another round of texts, or go and listen in on someone?

Maybe I'd be better off spying on the girls, trying to anticipate where they would be going and what they would be doing.

I got up and began pacing back and forwards, trying to clear my head and think logically. So far, much of my A work had been based on logic. Now, when I really needed to think logically, I was finding I couldn't. My mentor wasn't much help either: she was staring into space. Her eyes were glazed over and I could tell she was scheming something. Or at least debating the merits of one scheme against another.

The pressure was starting to get to me. I needed a way to get A to be able to ease off on things. Maybe if I took a break from spying on people, planning, listening in on conversations, I'd be able to return to it renewed and able to focus better. I would have to broach the subject with my mentor and hope she agreed to it. If she didn't, I could use the threat of not being A. Except, of course, I liked my life. I quite liked being alive. I wanted to live to see twenty-five, at least.

I was fairly sure she would agree to it.

A week of _just_ going to and from school, _just_ doing homework, getting eight hours per night of sleep. That was all I wanted. Seven days. I could even send the girls a note saying I was going to take a little holiday and see what happened. See who tried to work out who was away from school and therefore could be A. That would help us greatly: we could get an idea of who was suspicious and who they suspected.

We knew so far that Spencer was probably trying to figure out the real identity of A. Emily probably wanted to, just so she could know if her beloved Alison was alive or not. Aria and Hanna also probably wanted to know who A was, possibly so they could try to get revenge for the little things that had happened to them.

I brought up the idea of taking a break from being A for a while with my mentor. Luckily for me, she agreed. Ever since I became A, she tended to agree with me a lot more, or give me what I wanted. So, if it was a break I wanted, I got it.

My mentor agreed to monitor the girls occasionally: since A was only going to be 'away' for a week, it'd only be necessary to check in on each of the girls twice. Nothing excessive. Besides, it wasn't as if they could get a lot done in trying to figure out what had happened that night at the end of seventh grade. If they weren't being guided or told what to do, they probably wouldn't know what to do.

The only problem was that I wouldn't be able to take a break until the news of Ian's death broke. For my sake, I hoped that would be soon.

Perhaps it would be better if I took some time off until the news hit, and then resumed my break later.

For now, I powered down my blocked-number Blackberry and tucked it inside a desk drawer.

My mentor had promised to try to find out if Ian had been planning a holiday, and I felt grateful to her for everything.

For allowing me to try to assuage her anger. For letting me come up with a plan. For giving me a second chance.

For letting me live.

Mentor POV

I gave A the time off she'd requested. I was impressed that she'd gone for so long before she asked. Then again, she could have wanted to show that she was trustworthy before she went taking time off from her duties.

Now, I had to find out what Ian's plans had been. It appeared that he didn't have an official job at the moment, which meant he could take off for a holiday any time he wanted to.

I left A to her own devices, which happened to be downloading music on iTunes. I knew her well enough to know that downloading music was her go-to when she wanted to relax and be lazy. For the first time in months, both of us were allowing that relaxation.

Facebook might show something of Ian's plans. I logged in, going directly to his profile and scanning the wall posts. It wasn't long before I got what I wanted.

A week ago, he'd posted about his upcoming two week holiday to Spain. Why he was going there, I didn't know. Nor did I care: all I cared about was the fact that A and I had wrecked his plans for a fun little trip to Spain. He certainly wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Or ever again, really.

I printed the page and put it aside, ready to show A when she wanted to see it.

She appeared after a few minutes, evidently sensing that something interesting had happened. Or, at least that I'd found something interesting.

I handed her the printout and she scanned it so quickly, I found it hard to believe she'd read a word. When she looked up, she was smiling.

Sometimes, I felt like I could read her mind. This was one of those times. The thought going through her mind at the moment was _perfect_.

We'd have to wait a week longer, because that was when Ian was supposed to get back from his holidays. As far as anyone else was concerned, anyway. We knew how it would all play out. He wouldn't arrive, people wouldn't be concerned at first. Once more time passed and he still wasn't around, that was when people would begin asking questions.

More time would pass. Eventually the people closest would call the police. The police would search for a while. They might eventually decide to launch a homicide enquiry.

And both of us had front-row seats.

**A/N: still don't own anything. Would like reviews. Intending to update soon.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 16**

Mentor POV

For me, the next week passed quickly. A was taking her break and thoroughly enjoying it, as far as I could tell. It seemed to me that she was missing being A: sometimes I saw her reaching to grab her cell phone, only to remember it wasn't within reach. Other times, she looked like she wanted to go and listen in on someone's conversation, and send a text. I realized how much she'd come to depend on being A. I hoped the news would break soon: I was bored and wanted entertainment, and it seemed to me that she was quickly getting bored. I continued my routine of checking in on the girls and taking notes: to give A the break she wanted, without interruption, I planned to save the notes for until she was finished with her break.

None of the girls were doing anything stupid, which disappointed me. Between the four of them, I would have thought they would use the opportunity to do things they shouldn't, knowing that A wasn't watching. Or maybe they figured that just because A wasn't watching, they weren't safe. True, she wasn't watching, but I was. And I was concerned they might figure out that there were two people working on being A.

So far, I'd found out that Spencer thought A might be Ian Thomas. She knew A was going on holiday, and she knew from Melissa that Ian was. It appeared that she had already done the maths and concluded that Ian Thomas and A were the same person. Poor girl, she was so far from the truth. I'd have to keep that in mind. A could use it as ammunition when she returned: once Rosewood found out Ian was dead, she could text Spencer. Spencer would have to use her analytical skills to try figuring out who A was now.

Emily seemed to be clinging to the belief that A was secretly Alison DiLaurentis. That didn't surprise me: she probably saw something of Alison's face in every girl with blue eyes and blond hair she saw. She still held the belief that Alison was alive and well, somewhere in the world. There wasn't even any basis for the beliefs she held, unless you counted her crush and 'undying' love for her. And those were hardly solid grounds to believe that someone was alive, when all evidence pointed to the opposite.

Aria and Hanna didn't seem to know what to think. Aria thought it might be either Alison, or her ghost. Trust Aria to believe in the supernatural. Probably thought that the odd texts were Alison's ghost, trying to make amends. Because, you know, ghosts used texts and other technology to do that.

Hanna thought it could be Ian or Melissa. I knew Melissa better than she did though, and knew that while Melissa could be manipulative, she didn't quite have the necessary mind frame to kill someone or skulk around doing what A had been for months. Like she'd told Spencer one time, it took a very unique person to kill. Unique, like myself and A.

So, in all, none of the girls were that close to the truth. That, of course, was a good thing. A and I were nowhere near being suspects, and that meant that we were free to carry on, as long as we remained inconspicuous.

Of course, that was no problem. We'd been doing this for so long now, that either of us could blend flawlessly into a crowd, even if we stood out from it at the same time.

In years gone by, one of us had been standing out from the crowd. Then, circumstances meant that it was the other.

APOV

Time dragged on slowly for me. The week I spent not being A was torturously slow, as if someone had slowed time to make sure I fully dealt with not doing my usual A duties. It was made worse knowing that my mentor was running around doing the things I should be doing, and the guilt from that hit me sometimes.

The first day was the most annoying. I made a conscious decision not to touch my Blackberry for the week. Despite this, my fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to be holding my cell phone. Feeling the weight of it, smooth and cool, in my hand. Running my finger over the buttons, readying myself to begin typing out another message. The hardest was when I saw Aria talking to Noel Kahn, not someone she ever would have spoken to. The curiosity was overwhelming, and I was immediately desperate to text her and ask why they were talking. Of course I couldn't, because my blocked-number cell phone was at home.

The next days crawled by, and after the fourth day I barely noticed the absence of my cell phone. I relished the fourth day, knowing that soon I would be back and better than before. I would also have some new ammunition: I knew my mentor had gone to find out who each of the girls thought it was. She was saving that information for me, guessing that I would want to know it after my break had finished. Of course she was right; she knew me almost as well as I knew myself.

Finally, the week ended. It was now the day when Ian Thomas was supposed to have been returning from Spain.

My mentor and I met after school to discuss it, and figured that we had a few more days to wait before anyone started asking questions. She thought that people would make the assumption that he had gone straight home, straight to bed to sleep off his jet lag. I was inclined to agree. It was both good and bad. It afforded us extra time to plan, but that also meant that we had to wait the extra time. Already, we'd been waiting two weeks for this to happen.

I was looking forward to it. Already, my mind was returning to A's usual mindset. I was planning what I would do. My first text would definitely have to be to Spencer, I decided, even as I began planning what it would say.

Finally, I had finished my planning. By now, I had a stack of texts saved in my drafts folder, waiting to serve their purpose.

I slipped my phone back into my bag, and waited for the next day.

SPOV

The night Ian was due to return from Spain, I felt anxious and slightly jumpy. An odd foreboding feeling settled over me, and I wondered if there was a reason for it. I'd felt this feeling before, the anticipation that something was going to happen soon and that I should expect it to happen. Of course, I didn't know what it was I should be expecting to happen.

It was times like these I really wished I had some way of knowing what the future would bring. A was, as far as I knew, still on holiday. Which meant that it was probably Ian. So, that meant the notes would be starting up soon. Ian would probably wait a few days, so as not to draw attention to himself: it would be too obvious if he got back and the A notes started up instantly.

Despite the fact that he was A, I wanted to talk to him. Ask why he had decided to impersonate Alison, why he'd felt it necessary to run around stalking myself and the other girls, terrorizing us. Especially since he knew what Mona had done.

I also wanted to know what he knew. Some time ago, A had implied that he knew a lot, and I'd decided that I needed to find out what it was. It was strange that A had turned out to be Ian Thomas, since it didn't really make any sense.

It was an annoying cycle. One that could go around and around in circles, if all the questions weren't asked and answered.

As soon as I could, I was going to find him and ask him everything.

APOV

Poor Spencer. She really believed that she would get to interrogate Ian and ask him everything. I almost felt sorry for her. At the moment, I was sitting, dressed in my typical disguise, and watching. She paced restlessly, and I started to wonder how worn the carpet was. Just then, I heard the phone ringing, and put in my favourite device-the in-ear thing that made my hearing much better than it was. Recently, I'd had it fixed up, so now it resembled an earphone.

That had been a stroke of genius. Now, I just looked like a girl sitting in the woods, listening to music. Nothing suspicious or strange.

I focused on the phone conversation, tuning in and listening very carefully. Doing this for so long had fine-tuned my ability to listen to just one thing. With my enhanced hearing, it was always so tempting to stop and just listen to everything I could hear. Months of practice had helped me hone the ability to resist that temptation, and now I listened intently.

Melissa was on the phone, clearly to one of her friends. Well, obviously she wouldn't be talking to Ian. She didn't know it yet, but his corpse was rotting away in the bottom of a wishing well. She was now going on about how she just _couldn't wait_ to see Ian, and that she'd missed him so much. I was grateful that I didn't get sick easily: listening to all this sappy crap might make me sick otherwise.

My mentor's suspicions were confirmed a little later, when she said he would be going straight home from the airport, and directly to sleep off the jet lag. I was pleased to hear that she didn't think he would be calling anyone to check in, or let them know he was home. I had to wonder why that was. Was he really that selfish? I considered this, and decided against it. My guess was that it was just an attempt to be pragmatic or something.

Finally, Melissa got off the phone. I listened to her and Spencer snipe at each other for a few minutes, then they stopped. The jingling of keys alerted me to the fact that someone was going out, and I watched as Melissa got into her car, holding a small parcel. Probably a sap-o-rama welcome home gift for Ian.

Once she left, I jogged home. My mind was calculating the next steps. Knowing Melissa, she'd just leave the parcel in the mailbox for Ian, not wanting to disturb him. Spencer would be driving by his house sometime in the next few days and would no doubt stop in to see if he was around at some point. After a few days, she'd probably ask Melissa if she'd heard from or seen Ian.

That would be when the questions started. Not long after, Rosewood would once again become a media circus. I didn't doubt that people would somehow find a way to link his death to Alison's. And then, the rumours and speculations would circulate.

My mentor would be annoyed, and I was always the one who listened to her ranting. She complained about the justice system, the police force… she tended to have a complete disregard for people in government or authority positions. Teachers, for instance, were often complaining about her anti-authority attitude. The irony was that she considered herself to be a teacher of sorts, teaching people 'lessons' about lying. Rather, punishing them for lying. She considered it a sort of service, which was also ironic because she disdained people who worked for the benefit of others. So, her doing what she did was the ultimate irony, because she was doing the two things she disdained the most. I didn't know if she did that deliberately or unintentionally.

One thing I did know, was that once the proverbial hit the fan, she would be watching the drama unfold.

I knew she was also considering if A should tip off the police. Personally, I was against it. It would draw attention to A, and neither of us wanted that. When I considered how much time and effort I put into being anonymous and inconspicuous, I didn't want to do something that would swing a massive spotlight onto someone who went by A. I knew she would agree with me there, as when I'd first started being A, she drilled into me that the most important tool I had was anonymity. She literally reminded me of it daily for a month. She slipped notes into my locker, reminding me of it in just one word. She did all sorts of things to make sure I kept it in mind. One time, she drew a stick figure with a blank face, and a question mark above the persons face.

I pointed this out to her, and she agreed that I wouldn't tip off the police. As long as four pretty little liars kept quiet, so would I.

Finally, a few days later, the news broke. Ian Thomas was missing, and no one had heard from him in weeks. More, it turned out that he hadn't checked in to his flight to Spain.

Stupid people. Everyone else was so oblivious. I almost pitied them. They knew nothing. It was tempting to write an article, or at the least distribute fliers telling everyone that he was dead.

At the moment, the police weren't looking at it as a murder or homicide yet. So far, it looked like Ian had just taken off somewhere without telling anyone. It wasn't exactly a high priority: he wasn't young or old enough for someone to fear for his safety, and he probably wouldn't be treated as a runaway-just someone who took off for a holiday without telling anyone.

How selfish. If you're going to take off on holiday, at least tell someone so they don't go to the police and report you missing. Of course, he wouldn't be doing anything ever again, except rotting away.

I would have to wait until the police changed the search at least to a homicide enquiry, before baiting the girls. But that didn't mean I couldn't ask them to try finding out where Ian might be. What had happened to him.

Better to wait though, until they were all together. And when I could see them all at once. It would be more fun for me, to be able to watch their reactions than try to imagine it. I wasn't really in this for fun, but I couldn't resist looking for it occasionally. And who could blame me? I had to spend time running around, scheming, eavesdropping, doing things at midnight to be sure I was protected by the darkness. I lost out on sleep. My grades suffered occasionally, like the time I barely passed an English test. Only one other person knew what I was doing, and I had to keep a secret from the rest of the world. So, yeah, I think I was pretty fair in wanting to look to find something fun or amusing in what I was doing.

My mentor appeared, seemingly out of thin air. She handed me a slip of paper, on which was written O/W, Ar, S, E, H. Mtg. I rapidly decoded it, recognizing that Officer Wilden, Aria, Spencer, Emily and Hanna were meeting sometime soon… she seemed to read my mind, and was quick to supply the information I wanted: tomorrow evening, Spencer's house. I would have to pay a little visit to them. I'd bet he wanted to talk to them about Ian. Spencer especially, because of the link she had to him through her sister. That would be good to watch, Wilden grilling Spencer. I'd love to watch her squirm.

For my sake, I hoped they met in a room where anyone could see in. Better yet, they would meet in one of the side rooms, where I could hide out while I listened. I'd have to take my hearing device, the one that helped my hearing, and wear my usual disguise… that wouldn't be so bad. If it meant I got useful information, I'd take it any day.

I packed together my things that night, excitement humming through my veins like a shot of caffeine. As far as I was concerned, A was back.

Mentor POV

A was packing her things together and getting ready for the next day. For her, it wouldn't be a busy day, or eventful, but she did need her supplies at times. Tomorrow was one of those times, and we were both happier when she was organised and ready for anything. Of course, A would never go around without something she might need. I knew she'd rather die first. Well, maybe not quite, but she'd give her computer and cell phone if it meant she'd always have the stuff she needed.

Both of us were fairly sure we knew what Wilden had summoned the girls for. He wanted to talk to them about Ian. During her little holiday, I had borrowed A's cell phone to email Wilden, and anonymously implicate Ian in Alison's death. He evidently bought it, and I suppose that to him, it made sense somehow. The way I figured it, Ian had been missing for around three weeks now. It could easily be a guilty conscience, or a killer trying to get away because he suspected someone knew what he'd done. What was to say he hadn't upped sticks and taken off?

As for me, I was just grateful that I was on the right side of things: I knew everything, and so did A. Neither of us were left in the dark, trying to scramble around digging for answers. If the girls dug any deeper for answers, they could study and train to become archaeologists.

Still, it was amusing to watch them try to find answers. Watch them think they knew everything, only to have the theories blown out of the water later when something happened to prove them wrong. The look on their pretty little faces when they realized they were back to square one. The slightly slumped shoulders and dejected look, as if they had just failed some major test. In a small way, they had failed.

Best of all, the realization that was dawning on them: they knew absolutely nothing. A knew more than they did; so did I. Together, it was a powerful combination. It amazed me, that they were only just now beginning to realize the power. How could anyone be so stupid, so shallow and superficial, to think they were above A?

Knowledge is power, after all.

**So, can someone please tell me why I'm not getting any reviews? This story broke 500 hits the other day. Am I doing something wrong? Surely 500+ hits can't be wrong… My stories are getting towards 2000 hits for this month with not many reviews. That tells me that maybe they're decent, but with no reviews, I have no way of knowing.**

**If you think this is good, bad or in between, please tell me! I would love to hear any criticism you have, just be nice. If you have an opinion what I'm doing wrong or why I'm not getting a lot of reviews, tell me anyway. Whatever it is, I'd like to hear it.**

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